


Saving Agent Carter

by watcherofworlds



Series: The Saving Trilogy [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 28,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7678828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watcherofworlds/pseuds/watcherofworlds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After finally succeeding in helping Bucky to control the Winter Soldier, and after being forced to watch the events in Sokovia from halfway around the world, powerless to help, Cassie is sure the worst is over. Her latest assignment, serving as the resident psychologist for the New Avengers facility is, as far as she's concerned, a piece of cake compared to her previous one. Aside from her bi-weekly check-ins with Bucky and the fact that Wanda is in need of grief counseling to help her deal with the loss of her brother, there really isn't a lot for Cassie to do.<br/>Cassie soon finds out, however, that her assignment is much harder than she realized. Despite having overcome the Winter Soldier, Bucky's troubles are far from over, and soon Sharon Carter needs her help as well-and she's not entirely sure she knows how to help either of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sharon took a deep, shaky breath as the sleek black SUV that had dropped her off turned and disappeared back down the long gravel drive that led to the New Avengers facility.

"Here goes nothing," she muttered to herself as she approached the front doors.

"Good afternoon," the voice of an Irish woman said over a hidden intercom. "You have activated a security alert. Please state your name." This particular turn of events didn't surprise her all that much-Agent Major, her SO, had warned her that Tony Stark might have had an AI wired into the security system, although she had been expecting it to sound like a British man, not an Irish woman.

"Agent Sharon Carter, from the CIA," Sharon said, addressing the AI. She felt slightly silly talking to empty air, but there was nothing to be done about it. "I was told you were expecting me."

"One moment please," the AI said. After a pause, the doors swung inward with the droning of a buzzer and the swish of hyrdaulic hinges. Sharon walked slowly into the building, her mouth hanging open. The facility was even more impressive on the inside, a sweeping structure of metal and glass, bathed in golden sunlight from its myriad windows.

"Please wait here," the AI said, interrupting Sharon's reverie. "I'll send someone to fetch you." Sharon nodded, despite knowing that the AI couldn't see her.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, she saw someone approaching her. A young woman about Sharon's age, maybe a year or two younger, she had raven black hair, dark brown eyes that sparkled with warmth, and a brilliant, cheerful smile to match her eyes. Sharon eyed her, not sure what to make of her. Dressed as she was in combat boots, a hoodie, and jeans, she clearly wasn't wearing any kind of uniform, SHIELD or otherwise, and she didn't have the bearing of a member of the military.

"Good afternoon Doctor Flynn," the AI said to the young woman when she reached Sharon. "This is Agent Carter. She's with the CIA." Sharon frowned. She could have sworn she'd heard something in the AI's voice other than a politely neutral tone. If an AI could sound disapproving, this one did.

"Ah yes," Doctor Flynn said, addressing Sharon. "Steve told us to expect you today." Sharon nodded nervously in acknowledgement of the greeting, trying to ignore the twinge she'd felt at the sound of Steve's name.

"Would you like me to call Captain Rogers?" the AI asked.

"No!" Sharon blurted before she could stop herself. Doctor Flynn cast a quizzical glance in her direction, and she was sure that if the AI had been able to it would have been doing the same.

"No thanks FRIDAY," Doctor Flynn said, speaking for Sharon. "I can take it from here."

"As you wish," FRIDAY said, and was silent. Sharon and Doctor Flynn stared awkwardly at each other for a moment.

"So, what's your deal with Steve?" Doctor Flynn finally asked.

"I'd really rather not talk about it," Sharon replied, shaking her head. Doctor Flynn shrugged.

"Fine by me," she said. "It's been my experience as a psychologist that your patients are much more likely to want to talk to you if you let them do it on their own." She started to walk away, back the way she'd come, and Sharon followed her.

"So you're a psychologist?" she asked. "I guess that explains why FRIDAY kept calling you Doctor Flynn." Doctor Flynn laughed.

"Yes," she said,"but I'd really rather that _you_  called me Cassie. I can't change the way FRIDAY addresses me, but I _can_  change the way the _people_  I meet do. I must admit though, FRIDAY's being so formal all the time can be quite entertaining. You should hear her talk to Steve and the New Avengers-it's all 'Captain Rogers' this and 'Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes' that and 'What can I help you with, Second Lieutenant Wilson?'"

"Sounds hilarious," Sharon said dryly.

"Oh it is," Cassie said emphatically, apparently not noticing the lack of humor in Sharon's voice. "It drives Steve crazy though." They stopped in front of a metal door that was exactly like all the others Sharon had seen in the facility. The room on the other side, however, revealed when Cassie opened the door, didn't fit in with the rest of the facility at all. It had plush carpeting on the floor and was lit by warm yellow lamp light instead of harsh white fluorescents. A large dark wood desk occupied the center of the room, two cushy office chairs set up on either side of it. Several bookshelves overflowing with books lined the wall, and here and there paintings were hung on the small bits of wall space not covered by bookshelves.

"My office," Cassie explained, walking in.

"Quite the set up you've got here," Sharon remarked, following after her.

"One of the advantages of Tony Stark being the Avengers' source of funds," Cassie said. "I decided that if this was the place that I would be spending most of my time with my patients then I wanted it to be as inviting as possible, and Tony kind of took it from there." Sharon nodded. Cassie glanced up at the ceiling and asked "FRIDAY?" After a moment, FRIDAY said, "Hello Doctor Flynn. What can I do for you?"

"Could you connect me with Steve please?" Cassie asked.

"What?" Sharon asked, sounding much more frantic than she would have liked. "Why?" Cassie looked at her.

"You need to talk to him, don't you?" she asked. "I mean, isn't that why you're here? To check up on the Avengers?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Sharon replied. To FRIDAY, she said, "Sorry. Please continue."

"Of course, Agent Carter," FRIDAY said, and there was that disapproving tone again. "One moment please." A moment later, Steve's voice filled the room, making Sharon flinch.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Agent Sharon Carter from the CIA is here," Cassie said. "Right on schedule, actually." A pause, then Steve said, "I'm kind of in the middle of something right now Cassie."

"Well, that's not _my_   fault," Cassie replied. "You knew she was coming, but you decided to have training today anyway."

"And before you ask, no, you can't send Romanov," she added. " _You're_  the leader of the Avengers. Sharon needs to talk to _you._ "

"All right fine," Steve said, and Sharon heard him sigh. "I'm on my way." 

"See you soon," Cassie replied, her statement punctuated by a _click_  as Steve disconnected. Cassie glanced at Sharon. It was clear that she wanted to ask her about her issue with Steve, but she seemed determined to remain true to her earlier statement about not prying. 

There was a knock on the door. It sounded almost abnormally loud in Cassie's quiet, still office.

"Hey Steve," Cassie said, opening the door. She stepped aside to let him through. Steve was dressed in grey sweatpants and a white tank top that, quite accidentally, Sharon was sure, showed off his muscular torso. He had white athletic tape wrapped around his hands-for sparring practice, maybe?-but Sharon hardly noticed it. She was too busy trying her best to stop herself from blushing. Steve's uniform, in its many variations, covered very nearly everything, and, since that was the only thing Sharon had ever seen him in, she had never seen this much of him at once before.

 _Come **on**_ , she growled to herself. _Pull yourself together._

"My apologies for my appearance," Steve said, gesturing to his clothing. "I was in the middle of training and didn't have time to change." He flashed that utterly disarming smile, and Sharon's heart skipped a beat.

"That's quite all right," she said, mustering her composure. "I don't need you to be dressed nicely in order to talk to you."

"Still, this isn't the way one should look in front of a lady," Steve replied, with a grin that made it clear he was teasing. Sharon sighed.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to get to the task at hand," she said.

"Of course," Steve said. "Sorry. What do you want to know?"

"What exactly have the Avengers been up to since the events in Sokovia?" Sharon asked. Steve shrugged.

"Not much really," he said. "Tony had this facility built, and Natasha and I have been training the New Avengers, but other than that there hasn't been a lot going on. There really haven't been any global threats that required our intervention since Sokovia."

"Need to write that down?" Cassie put in. Sharon nodded. Cassie tossed her a notepad and a pen. Sharon flipped it open and scribbled down some notes- _Facility constructed. Training done by Rogers and Romanov. No global threats since Sokovia._

"Who exactly are the New Avengers?" she asked.

"Wanda Maximoff, Sam Wilson, James Rhodes, Bucky Barnes, Scott Lang, and the Vision," Steve replied, ticking them off on his fingers. Sharon wrote _Maximoff, Wilson, Rhodes, Barnes, Lang, Vision. Background checks necessary._

"What does training usually entail?" she asked. 

"Well, that depends," Steve said. "Today it was hand to hand combat-Natasha and I are trying to teach Wanda not to rely so heavily on her powers."

"Not because we're planning world domination or anything," he added hastily in response to Sharon's raised eyebrow. "Just in case she ever finds herself in a situation where she can't use them. I'm trying to teach the New Avengers to be prepared for any eventuality," Sharon nodded and wrote _Training varies based on individual needs. "Prepared for any eventuality."_ She glanced down at her notes and said, "I think that's all I need for right now. Thank you very much for your time."

"Do you want me to show you out?" Steve asked.

"I'm perfectly capable of finding the front door on my own," Sharon replied. It came out more coldly than she intended, but she needed to get away from him.

"All right," Steve said carefully. He looked hurt and bewildered, but he smiled at her anyway. "See you later."

"You both have a wonderful afternoon," Sharon said, heading for the door. "Oh, and say hi to Agent Romanov for me." Steve opened his mouth to reply, but she shut the door on him before he could. She leaned against it and let out an explosive sigh of relief.

"I'm glad that's over with," she muttered to herself. "I just hope that next time Steve's a little more dressed. I don't think I can handle much more of that." She glanced apprehensively at the ceiling, but if FRIDAY was listening, she didn't comment. It seemed reasonable to assume that she only spoke if addressed directly, or in regards to matters of security. Realizing this, Sharon levered herself away from the door, squared her shoulders, and left the New Avengers facility, relieved that she'd made it through an encounter with Steve without embarrassing herself.


	2. Chapter 2

James slammed a fist into Cassie's stomach. The wind was knocked out of her with a _whoosh_  and she doubled over.

"Would it kill you to soften your blows a little?" she asked breathlessly, struggling to straighten up.

"Your enemies won't soften their blows, and neither will I," James replied.

"Well, could you at least not hit me so hard with the metal hand?" Cassie asked irritably.

  
"Lay off on her a little bit there Buck," Steve put in, ducking under a swing from Wanda. "We're not training her to be an Avenger, after all. We're just making sure she knows how to defend herself." He grabbed Wanda by the shoulder, spun her around toward him, and slipped an arm across her neck, bracing his wrist with his other hand-not a choke hold, but one designed to restrain her. Wanda struggled, shoving her hands against his arm, but Cassie knew it was futile. Steve could have a grip like iron when he wanted to. Seeming to realize this, Wanda stopped struggling. She jabbed her elbow into Steve stomach and leaped away from him as he doubled over.

"Well done Wanda!" he exclaimed as he straightened back up. "You're making progress!" Wanda grinned, glowing with pride. Cassie turned to watch Rhodey and Sam, who were practicing aerial combat. With a roar of miniature jet engines, Sam swooped and dived and corkscrewed through the air, rather like the falcon that was his alias, Rhodey right on his tail. Because Natasha and Steve wished to avoid any serious injuries, the bullets in Rhodey's shoulder mounted machine gun had been replaced with paint pellets, and Sam's suit was splattered in several places with fluorescent orange paint.

Something hit the back of Cassie's knee, making her leg buckle and sending her toppling onto her hands and knees on the floor. Something cold and metal pressed against the back of her head.

"Damn it James!" she snapped

"The worst thing you can do during a fight is allow yourself to get distracted," James said, ignoring her outburst. "If I had a gun you'd be dead right now."

"Then I guess it's a good thing the Winter Soldier isn't in control of you anymore isn't it?" Cassie retorted irritably. The room went silent. Even the sound of machine gun fire from Sam and Rhodey's pitched mock aerial battle ceased, and Cassie realized that she'd made a mistake.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice subdued. "That was uncalled for."

"Yes," James said. His voice was taut with some emotion she couldn't identify. "Yes it was." Cassie felt a breeze as he stepped past her but, looking down at the floor as she was, all she could see of him was his legs in the periphery of her vision as he stormed out of the room. She slowly lifted her head to see that everyone in the room was staring at her, Steve scowling at her as if to say _Now look what you've done!_

"I'm sorry," she said, getting to her feet. "I should-"

"No," Steve said, cutting her off. "You've done enough." Cassie sighed, disappointed that he seemed to have lost all his faith in her just because of one stupid remark, but thought it best not to argue.

"Fine," she said. "I'll just...go to my room then. Clearly there's no point in me sticking around here anymore." She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and walked out of the room, acutely aware of the four pairs of eyes on her back.


	3. Chapter 3

"You wanted to see me?" Wanda asked, poking her head into Cassie's office.

"Yes indeed," Cassie replied, gesturing to the office chair in front of her desk. "Have a seat." Wanda sat, feeling apprehensive. 

"I called you here because there are some things I feel I must explain to you," Cassie said once she had made herself reasonably comfortable."You know why I'm here, yes?" Wanda took "here" to mean the New Avengers facility as a whole and not just Cassie's office and nodded.

"You're here to serve as the resident psychologist for the New Avengers facility," she said, repeating, word for word, what Steve had told the New Avengers when he'd introduced Cassie to them upon her arrival at the facility. 

"That's true," Cassie said, "but you see, that doesn't give me a whole lot to do, since so far my only work has been bi-weekly check-ins with James and, as I'm sure you've noticed, he and I aren't exactly on speaking terms right now."

"What exactly does that have to do with me?" Wanda asked.

"Well, it occurred to me that not only is James not the only person here who is in need of psychological help, but there are also people here who probably need it more than he does, you being chief among them," Cassie replied.

"And what would I possibly need a psychologist's help for?" Wanda asked, feigning ignorance. She was pretty sure she knew where Cassie was going with this.

"Grief counseling, I expect," Cassie said succinctly. "You felt it, didn't you? When your brother died?" Wanda stood abruptly. She _had_  felt it when Pietro had died, and she didn't want to relive the pain of having part of her consciousness, of her soul, extinguished, of feeling like her heart had stopped beating and was being ripped put at the same time.

"Please," she said in a broken voice. "Please don't make me talk about that. I...I can't go through it again." Cassie nodded, her expression the picture of sympathy and concern.

"Don't worry," she said. "I won't try to force you to talk about it before you're ready. I can't pretend to know how you feel, but I want you to know that I'm here for you. I'll be more than willing to offer you my help should you ever need it." Wanda realized that she didn't know what to do. She didn't want to sit back down, but she wasn't ready to leave quite yet either.

"Feel free to borrow a book," Cassie said, seeming to notice her indecision. She gestured to her bookshelves. "I have plenty." Wanda nodded and moved toward the shelves, grateful for the distraction. As she perused the titles on hand, a thought occurred to her.

"Cassie?" she asked without bothering to turn toward her.

"Yes Wanda?" Cassie replied.

"What happened to Steve?" Wanda asked.

"What do you mean?" Cassie wanted to know.

"When I looked inside his head..." Wanda began, then trailed off. After a moment, she continued. "It wasn't fear I saw there. It...it was regret. And even now he seems...haunted, like he's plagued by some demon from his past. What happened to him?"

"That's very astute of you to notice that," Cassie told her. "Sometimes even James doesn't notice those things, and he's been friends with Steve for nearly twenty years. As for what happened to him, well...it's really not my place to say. I will tell you, however, that he's been through a lot, far more than anyone should ever have to go through. His strength and perseverance are astounding."

"You really admire him, don't you?" Wanda asked.

"Yes, I do," Cassie replied. "Don't you?"

"Of course," Wanda said without hesitation. "I'll be lucky if I can be half the hero he is. I only wish I knew what it is that troubles him."

"You'll have to ask him that yourself," Cassie said, "Who knows? It might just be the thing that convinces both of you to accept my help. After all, I imagine he's not the only one who's haunted." Wanda tensed, but Cassie didn't press the issue beyond that. She seemed content to let Wanda decide if and when she wanted her help, which surprised her. She'd never known doctors, of any kind, to be so considerate. She glanced at the clock and saw it was nearly dinnertime.

"I've got to go," she told Cassie. "It's almost time for dinner. Are you coming?"

"No, you go ahead," Cassie said. "I'll get something later. Say hi to Steve for me."

"Will do," Wanda said, and left Cassie's office, closing the door behind her. As she made her way to the mess hall alone, with only her thoughts for company, she was forced to come to terms with the truth of Cassie's words. Steve was indeed not the only one who was haunted. She was too, haunted by her brother's death, a death so sudden that she hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye. Pietro had been there one moment and gone the next, taking a piece of her with him, a piece that she knew she would never get back.


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm back," Sharon said with false cheeriness, standing at the entrance to the New Avengers facility.

"Good morning Agent Carter," FRIDAY replied. Sharon didn't think she would ever get used to be greeted by someone she couldn't see, someone who sounded real but in reality was nothing strings of computer data. "One moment please." With the now familiar drone of a buzzer and swish of hydraulic hinges, the doors swung inward, allowing Sharon admittance into what, despite herself, she'd started thinking of as Steve's inner sanctum. 

"Speak of the devil," she muttered when she entered the building and found him waiting for her. He was wearing his uniform today, thankfully, his helmet dangling from his hand by its strap.

"And he shall appear," Steve finished for her with a grin. Sharon silently cursed his serum enhanced hearing. "What questions do you have for me today?

"None, actually," Sharon replied, careful to maintain a polite, businesslike tone. "I'm supposed to observe training." The grin disappeared from Steve's face. That information didn't seem to sit very well with him.

"Very well," he said. "Follow me." He led led her through the facility's maze of echoing metal corridors to a pair of nondescript steel doors.

"Ladies first," he said, gesturing as he opened one. She stepped through it onto the balcony beyond. Her first impression was of light, and no wonder- an entire side of the room below her was walled with windows. The New Avengers milled around on the floor below, chatting and laughing with each other, but the instant Steve stepped out onto the balcony and yelled "Avengers! Assemble!" they formed up in orderly ranks like a well drilled military unit. Then Sharon remembered that at least three of them were current or former members of the armed forces, and though that maybe it wasn't so surprising that they had that skill.

"Listen up everybody," Steve said. "This is Agent Carter from the CIA. She's here to observe training." A simultaneous groan went up from about half the group assembled below.

"I know, I know," Steve said. "I'm not happy about it either, but the smoother our relationship with the government is, the less likely it is that they'll want to interfere with our affairs." Sharon sighed. She had hoped that Steve being so courteous and cooperative toward her when she visited meant that he agreed with what she was doing, but it seemed that he too was resentful of the government's involvement in superhuman affairs and cooperated with her only because he felt he had no other choice. She slid down to a sitting position,her back against one of the doors behind her. At the same time, the other door opened and Natasha Romanov stepped through. She conversed quickly and quietly with Steve, probably discussing what was on the agenda for training that day, then they both went back the way they had come, reemerging a few minutes through another door at ground level Sharon watched them train the New Avengers through the support bars of the railing, occasionally jotting down notes in the notepad Cassie had given her during her last visit.

"Hello Miss Carter," a male, British accented voice said. Sharon glanced up and saw the Vision, perched on the railing above her.

"Hi," she said. She nodded to the room below them and asked "Don't you have training to do?"

"No," said the Vision. "I don't think Captain Rogers knows what to do with me, to be honest. Most of the time, I am merely an observer."

"So you call him Captain Rogers too, huh?" Sharon asked.

"I beg your pardon?" the Vision replied. It was such a quintessentially British response that Sharon had to resist the urge to laugh.

"You're not the only one who calls Steve Captain Rogers," she explained. "FRIDAY does it too."

"I see," the Vision said. "Well, I imagine FRIDAY does it because she was programmed that way. As for myself, I refer to him in such a manner because I am trying to show him that I aknowledge and respect his authority."

"I think he would really rather you called him Steve," Sharon said. "No one's called him Captain Rogers and meant it, really, truly meant it, in seventy-five years."

"Hmmm," the Vision said thoughtfully. "I'll have to keep that in mind. Thank you for the advice Miss Carter."

"You're welcome," Sharon replied. "Why are you talking to me anyway, if you don't mind me asking?"

"The only contact I've had with humanity so far has been with  the Avengers," the Vision said,"so I suppose I was curious." Sharon nodded and went back to watching the New Avengers train.

"Do you like your job, Miss Carter?" the Vision asked after a few minutes. The question seemed to come completely out of the blue, so Sharon wasn't sure if she'd even heard it right.

"Do I like my job?" she repeated. The Vision nodded.

"I don't know that I like it or dislike it," she said carefully. She didn't know why the Vision wanted that information, so she was wary of giving something away that she'd rather somebody not know, even if that somebody happened to be a machine intelligent android. "I liked working for SHIELD though. I felt like it was something I could be proud of, working for the organization that my grandmother helped to found. I felt like I was doing some good in the world. Now though... everything has changed, and I'm not sure what to feel or what to think or even what to believe."

"Believe in yourself, Miss Carter," the Vision said, an oddly uplifting statement for something that was ninety-nine percent homicidal robot. "Believe in the principles that SHIELD was founded on. They're still as strong as they ever were, despite the organization's collapse."

"How could they not be?" Sharon put in. "Look at the person on whom they were based."

"Indeed," the Vision said, glancing down at the floor below them, at Steve training the New Avengers with a kind of encouraging, unbridled enthusiasm that Sharon had never before seen him exhibit. Had the Vision been anyone else, he might have wondered at that comment, but perhaps he attributed it to the fact that Sharon had a personal connection to the founding of SHIELD, one that no one else had.

"Above all, Miss Carter," the Vision said, continuing his early statement as though Sharon's comment about Steve had never even happened, "believe in humanity." With that encouraging, oddly cryptic statement, he drifted down from the railing to rejoin the New Avengers, leaving Sharon alone on the balcony to ponder his words.


	5. Chapter 5

"Good afternoon Sergeant Barnes."

FRIDAY's voice made Cassie glance up from the book she was reading to see James standing in the doorway of her office, looking tense and nervous.

"I-I keep hearing that," he said hesitantly. "What is that?"

"Oh, that's just FRIDAY," Cassie said lightly. "Say hello FRIDAY."

"Hello FRIDAY," FRIDAY said. Cassie rolled her eyes.

" _Of course_  Tony had to program his AI to be a smart ass," she muttered.

"Why...why does it sound like Steve's mom?" James asked.

"You mean why does it sound like an Irish woman?" Cassie queried in reply. James nodded. Cassie shrugged.

"I don't actually know," she said. "You'd have to ask Tony. He's the one who programmed her that way, after all."

  
"I'm not sure I want to do that," James replied. "I don't think Tony Stark and I are on the best of terms right now."

"Hmmm," Cassie said noncommittally. "On that note, does the fact that you're here right now mean that we're on speaking terms again?" James nodded.

"Excellent," Cassie said. "Have a seat James."

"I'm sorry about what I said the other day," she added as James sat down in the office chair across her desk from her. "I was irritated, and I really didn't think about what I was saying. It just slipped out before I could stop it."

"It's fine," James said quietly. His tone implied that it wasn't, in fact, fine, but he seemed eager to put the matter to rest, and Cassie had to agree with him in that regard.

"So James," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I think," James replied.

"You think?" Cassie asked. "Have you had any incidents with the Winter Soldier I should know about?"

"No," James replied. "Well...not exactly. He doesn't talk to me anymore, but now that he's been, for the most part, reabsorbed back into my consciousness, all his memories...they're mine now. He still has all of his memories, because it wasn't him they wiped when he completed a mission-it was me. Otherwise... I would have fought him, and I might even have won."

"I'm sorry," Cassie said. "I'm sorry you have to experience that. It must be horrible." James made a noise low in his throat that was half agreement, half dismissal. When he spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper.

"I can't even be around the Vision anymore," he said.

"Because he sounds like Edwin Jarvis?" Cassie offered. James nodded shakily.

"Yeah," he said. His voice was hoarse and nearly inaudible. "Every time I hear him talk I'm overcome by a tidal wave of guilt, and I'm sure that one of these days I'm going to drown in it. The Soldier left Tony Stark with no one. He killed his father, and his mother, and the man who raised him...Maria and Jarvis were never his targets. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Winter Soldier had been programmed to never leave witnesses, and because of that... they had to die."

  
"Oh James," Cassie said quietly, her voice full of sadness and sympathy. James swiped angrily at his eyes, wiping away tears. Cassie found herself blinking back tears of her own. She reached across her desk and took James' hand.

"It wasn't your fault," she said, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You weren't in control. The Winter Soldier killed the Starks and Jarvis, not you."

"I _know_ it wasn't my fault," James said, pulling his hand out of Cassie's grip, "but that's not the point. The Winter Soldier's memories don't feel like they happened to another person. It was my eyes the Soldier was seeing through, my finger that pulled the trigger. Do you have any idea what that's like? Do you know how it feels to live with guilt like this, to live with the knowledge that you have the blood of god knows how many innocent people on your hands, people who never did a damn thing in their lives but try and do some good in this world? Do you?" James' voice broke. He put his face in his hands and wept, sobs shaking his shoulders, sobs that sounded like they were trying to claw their way out of him. Cassie opened her mouth to answer the question, but then realized that it wasn't meant to be answered.

"I've got blood on my hands, Cassie," James said, heedless of the fact that he had just said something to that effect not five minutes ago. "I may not have put it there, but it's clinging to me, and I'll never get it off. It will haunt me for the rest of my life, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it." He lifted his head from his hands. His face was tear streaked. His expression was one of such incredible pain that it broke Cassie's heart to look at it. It was then that she understood that even though James had overcome the Winter Soldier, his troubles were far from over. The Winter Soldier had left six decades of trauma in his wake, trauma that it would probably take James years to recover from, if not decades. She drew in a breath to tell James that she was sorry, even though she knew that wouldn't mean a damn thing, but he was gone. He had slipped away in that silent, ghostlike way of his, leaving Cassie alone to try and sort out the confusing mix of emotions tumbling around inside of her and try to figure out what she should do next.

 _This assignment is going to be a lot harder than I thought_ , she mused, and left her office to try and see if maybe, somewhere out there, there was some solution to James' latest set of problems.


	6. Chapter 6

_"Can we hold them?" Baron Strucker asked._

_"They're the Avengers," one of his men replied._

The memory made Wanda smile, especially now that she was on the path to becoming the very thing that Strucker and his men had so feared. It felt strange to smile. She hadn't had a reason to in so long.

"Alright everyone," Steve said, interrupting Wanda's musings. "I wanted you all to see what it's like when you're facing an opponent with whom you are evenly matched. To that end, Bucky and I are going to give you a demonstration." He gestured to Bucky, who rose from the circle that the New Avengers had formed themselves into at Steve's request. He stepped into the center of it and faced Steve. They stood watching each other for a few moments, then, without warning, they charged at each other. Wanda watched them, wide-eyed and breathless. She had seen Steve fight before, of course, but never like this. It was as if he and Bucky could read each other's minds, as if they each knew what the other was going to do a split second before they did it. They leaped and kicked, jabbed and parried in a frenzied blur of motion, almost too fast for the eye to follow. If Wanda hadn't known that they were only doing this to teach the New Avengers something, she might have believed that they truly intended to hurt each other. A quick glance around the circle told her that the other New Avengers shared her openly awestruck attitude as they watched the display of incredible strength, power, and agility before them.

"Damn," Scott said when they had finally separated and once again stood across the circle from each other. "Remind me to never get into a fight with either of you guys." Steve sighed.

"You completely missed the point of that entire exercise," he said. "We weren't trying to tell you not to get into fights with us, we were _trying_ to show you what it's like fighting someone who equals you in strength."

"Meaning no disrespect, Cap," Scott replied, "but I don't think I'm going to run into that problem any time soon." He gestured to his Ant-Man suit, which he'd insisted on wearing, to emphasize his point.

"As I recall, you met your equal, and he kicked your ass," Wanda countered.

"What, the Yellowjacket?" Scott asked. "I beat him, didn't I?"

"Barely," Wanda muttered, sending a ripple of laughter around the circle. She even got a chuckle out of Steve, though he still looked mildly irritated.

"Alright, that's enough," he said, without sincerity. "You guys can rag on each other later. For now, I want you all to split off into pairs and practice sparring. I know it's tempting, but try to avoid using your tech if at all possible." He looked pointedly at Rhodey, Sam, and Scott when he said this. He didn't bother to remind Wanda not to use her powers-with everything he had been emphasizing in his teaching lately, it _should_ have gone without saying, although Rhodey, Sam, and Scott never quite seemed to get the message. The New Avengers scrambled to follow Steve's request, except for Scott, who remained seated on the floor, leaving Wanda without a partner.

"Scott," Steve said. "Was I unclear?"

"No," Scott replied.

"Then why aren't you doing as I asked?" Steve said.

"Again, meaning no disrespect, but I don't need to," Scott said. "I know all this stuff already. I've been trained." Steve's jaw clenched. His shoulders tensed.

"Hey Nat, you wanna take this one?" he called. Natasha, who had been standing some distance away, keeping an eye on Sharon Carter, strode calmly across the room toward Scott.

"So, you're trained, are you?" she asked. There was something dangerous in her posture and tone, like she was daring him to agree.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Scott replied.

"Uh, Scott?" Wanda put in, trying to warn him against using such a disrespectful tone.

"What?" Scott snapped.

"Never mind," Wanda said. He could just learn the hard way if he was going to be so rude.

"Stand up," Natasha said. She didn't snap, but everyone had stopped what they were doing to watch the spectacle unfold, and her voice was a whipcrack in the silence. Scott got to his feet, a smug smile on his face.

"Do you know what it's like when you're fully trained?" Natasha asked.

"Are you going to show me what it's like when I'm fully trained?" Scott said, his tone implying that he wasn't taking the situation seriously at all. A split second later and without warning Natasha judo flipped him, slamming him down on the hard metal floor, knocking the wind out of him with a _whoosh_  of forcefully expelled air.

"That's what it's like when you're fully trained," Natasha growled, standing over him. "When you can react that quickly, when you can get an opponent on the ground in the time it takes them to blink, _then_  you can act all high and mighty and refuse to do what Steve tells you. Until then, you keep your damn mouth shut and do as you're told." Scott blinked at her, stunned.

"Okay," he said breathlessly. It was hard to talk without any air in your lungs. Natasha nodded curtly and stalked back across the room to Sharon Carter, who looked about as stunned as the New Avengers felt. Sam's laughter broke the silence.

"Shut up," Scott managed to groan.

"I've got no sympathy for you man," Sam replied, still laughing. "You brought this on yourself." Scott grunted in response, rolled over onto his stomach, and got to his feet. For some reason this struck the New Avengers as being intensely funny, and they collapsed into fits of helpless laughter. Scott brushed himself off, blushing bright red. 

"Well, I think that's enough for today," Steve cut in. He was watching them with his arms crossed, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The New Avengers filed out of the room. Wanda started to follow after them.

"Wanda," Steve said, stopping her in her tracks. She turned at looked at him curiously.

"Sharon wants to talk to you," he said, nodding to where the person in question was still standing where Natasha had left her. Wanda nodded and headed that way.

"Hello Wanda," Sharon said when she reached her. She gestured toward the exit and said, "Walk with me." She left the room, Wanda trailing in her wake.

"So," she said. "I understand you came into HYDRA's custody shortly before the fall of SHIELD." Wanda didn't answer. She didn't understand why Sharon was bringing that up, and anyway she didn't feel like talking about it. Sharon tried again.

"Apparently you and your brother volunteered for Strucker's experiments?" she asked. "And the two of you worked for Ultron after the Avengers invaded Strucker's base?"

"Yes," Wanda said shortly. That was it. They reached the main entrance of the facility and stopped walking.

"One word answers aren't very helpful Wanda," Sharon scolded.

"Then I guess it's a good thing I'm not trying to be helpful," Wanda replied cooly. Sharon opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Sam appearing from another part of the facility. He took in the scene in front of him, his head cocked to one side.

"What's going on?" he asked, his tone suspicious.

"I'm being given what you Americans call 'the third degree'," Wanda replied dryly.

"What are you doing that to poor Wanda for?" Sam asked, addressing Sharon.

"I'm _interviewing_ her because my superiors believe she has a questionable history," she replied primly, being sure to emphasize the word interviewing, just so that Sam and Wanda knew what's what.

"Then why are you 'interviewing' Scott or Bucky?" Sam asked, making air quotes so that his disdain was clear.

"I haven't gotten to Scott yet," Sharon replied defensively, "and Steve won't even let me _near_  Bucky."

"Gee, I wonder why," Wanda muttered. Sharon glared at her.

"You know, things will be much easier for all of us if you cooperate," she said.

"If you wanted cooperation then you shouldn't have talked to me," Wanda snapped. She was thoroughly fed up with Sharon by this point.

"I think you need to leave, Sharon," Sam cut in. His tone was flat and brooked no argument. "You've overstayed your welcome." Sharon glanced back and forth from him to Wanda and was met with identical stony-faced silences. She sighed irritably.

"Fine," she said curtly. "Good day to you both." She stormed out of the building, leaving Wanda and Sam alone.

"You okay?" Sam asked. Wanda nodded. Sam studied her face for a long moment, then said, "I'll talk to Steve later and let him know what Sharon's doing. He'll put her in her place."

"I'm pretty sure we already did that," Wanda replied with the smallest of smiles. Sam shrugged.

"Yeah," he said, "but a little reinforcement couldn't hurt. We should get back. The others will be wondering if you got kidnapped or something." He turned and started walking back the way he had come. Wanda followed him, letting the facility's echoing metal corridors swallow her up like a monster from the deep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I originally came up with the idea for this fic I did not intend for Sharon's boss to be such an asshole. I intended for him to be like Dooley, and he ended up more like Thompson.

Sharon sat in her SO's office, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes fixed on the wooden placard on his desk, inscribed with the words _Agent William Major_ in blocky, utilitarian print. She was incredibly nervous-her hands were folded to stop them from shaking.

"I'm disappointed Sharon," Agent Major said gravely.

"Dis-disappointed sir?" Sharon stammered, careful not to allow her gaze to stray even an inch from the placard.

"I sent you to the New Avengers facility with the express purpose of interviewing those New Avengers with questionable histories," Agent Major replied. "Why did you return empty handed?"

"I hit a roadblock," Sharon said defensively.

"A roadblock?" Agent Major asked. "Surely it can't be _that_ difficult to conduct a simple interview. Or did I overestimate your skills?"

"The Avengers are...hostile," Sharon replied, "and as such not particularly forthcoming with information."

"But you stated in your preliminary reports that Captain Rogers has been extremely cooperative," Agent Major protested. "Isn't he their leader? Couldn't he order the New Avengers to cooperate with you?"

"Captain Rogers is only cooperative because he feels he has no alternative," Sharon replied," and yes, he's the leader of the Avengers, but his influence only extends so far."

"What about the other one?" Agent Major asked. "The other person who trains the New Avengers. What's her name, Romanov?"

"Natasha Romanov refuses to have anything but the most distant contact with me," Sharon explained carefully. "As it is, I'm not getting much help from Rogers right now either."

"And that's because?" Agent Major asked.

"One of the people I'm supposed to interview is Bucky Barnes," Sharon replied. "Rogers won't let me anywhere near him."

"Surely even that's not an insurmountable obstacle," Agent Major said scornfully. "Get back there and get your job done, Agent Carter, before I'm forced to send someone else to get it done for you."

"Yes sir," Sharon ground out from between gritted teeth.

"Good," Agent Major replied, nodding. "You're dismissed." Sharon rose from her seat and walked out of his office with a back as straight and stiff as a steel rod, silently fuming at his dismissive treatment of her.


	8. Chapter 8

Cassie's tablet chirped, indicating that she had an incoming video call. She tapped the accept button, and her best friend's face filled the screen.

"Sam!" she said excitedly.

"Hey stranger," Sam replied with a smile. "How've you been?"

"Great!" Cassie said. "You know what I just realized? You called just in time for me to introduce you to everyone. This is one of the few time during the day when they're all in the same place at the same time and not busy."

"Awesome!" Sam replied. "Introduce me to who?"

"You'll see," Cassie told her with a sly grin. Keeping her tablet's camera trained on her, she walked out of the room and made her way towards the mess hall, where the New Avengers were having lunch.

"Hey everyone!" she said cheerfully.

"Hi Cassie," they chorused, mostly without enthusiasm.

"Sam, this is Wanda, Scott, Sam, Rhodey, James, Natasha, and Steve, collectively known as the New Avengers," Cassie said. "Guys, this is my best friend Samantha Nygard, who prefers to go by Sam."

"Actually," she added before the New Avengers could reply. "Natasha and Steve are full fledged Avengers. The New Avengers are the ones in training. So, Sam, this is Wanda, Scott, Sam, Rhodey, and James, collectively known as the New Avengers, and their trainers, Steve and Natasha."

"Hello," Sam replied, receiving mixed replies. Sam, Rhodey, and Scott were at least polite enough to say hello, but Natasha merely nodded, and James only acknowledged her greeting with the barest dip of his head.

"It's nice to meet you Sam," Steve said warmly, with a pointed glare at the rest of the group. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Sam replied. In the square in the corner of her tablet screen that showed her, Cassie saw her start braiding and re-braiding her long wavy blonde hair, a sure sign that she was nervous. She put a hand over her mouth to smother a burst of laughter.

"Have you seen the Vision?" she asked Steve. "I want to introduce Sam to him as well."

"He's probably wandering around the facility somewhere," Steve said. "He never spends any time in here with us, since, you know, he doesn't need to eat."

"Alright. Thanks Steve," Cassie said brightly, and raced out into the hallway. As soon as she was out of earshot of the group in the mess hall the laughter she'd been holding back burst forth.

"You've got a crush!" she teased.

"Shut up!" Sam retorted, only half serious. "I do not! It's just...when they show him on the news he's always wearing that uniform of his, and this was the first time I'd seen him without it. I'm sure _you_ haven't noticed, but he's very attractive, and you of all people should know how I get when I talk to attractive guys."

"Yeah, yeah," Cassie said, brushing off Sam's protests with a wave of her hand. "Let's get going. Looking for the Vision will give me the perfect opportunity to show you the rest of the facility."

"Who is the Vision anyway?" Sam asked.

"He's not  a _who_ so muchas he's a _what_ ," Cassie replied," and I'm not sure exactly _what_  he is. I mean, he's an android, or maybe he's a machine intelligence? An AI? Heck, I don't know. Let's just go find him."

"Technically, _I'm_  not going anywhere," Sam pointed out. "I'm at home, sitting on my couch, watching TV. Look, Mythbusters is on." Sam's view swung around to show her TV screen, demonstrating the truth of her statement.

"You are such a dork," Cassie said, laughing. "You know perfectly well what I meant."

"Of course I do," Sam replied,"but you know how much I enjoy driving you crazy." Cassie decided not to dignify that statement with a response. She wandered the facility in search of the Vision, and in the process showed Sam her office, the gym, and the main training room as well as the rest of the facility, and introduced her to the people who kept it running smoothly.

It was upon her return to the main training room that she found the Vision, floating in front of the the windows and staring out over the sprawling grounds of the facility.

"Excuse me," she said politely. The Vision turned slowly to face her. He drifted gently downward and landed on the floor in front of her with no more sound than a feather would have made.

"Hello Doctor Flynn," he said quietly. "Does Captain Rogers need me for something?" He asked this, Cassie suspected, because Steve did often use her as a messenger, usually to summon James, as he wasn't quite comfortable with FRIDAY yet.

"Not at the moment, no," she replied. "I wanted to introduce you to my friend Sam." She turned her tablet around so the Vision could see Sam's image on the screen.

"Hello Sam," the Vision said.

"Hi," Sam replied.

"Am I correct in assuming that your name is short for Samantha?" the Vision asked.

"Yes," Sam said, "but _please_  don't call me that."

"As you wish," the Vision replied, a faint trace of amusement coloring his tone.

"I should go," Cassie said, turning her tablet back around.

"Goodbye then," the Vision replied. Cassie smiled, nodded, and waved to him as she left the room.

"So..." she said. "Where to now?"

"Your room?" Sam suggested. "You haven't shown me that yet." Cassie cast her thoughts back and realized that she had, indeed, forgotten to show Sam her room. 

"Alright," she said. "Sounds like a plan." When she reached her room, however, she ran into a problem. She was holding her tablet in both hands, and she needed at least one free to open the door.

"Excuse me a moment," she said to Sam, and tucked it under her arm while she opened her door. Once she was inside her room she pulled it back out and held it at eye level again.

"Sorry about that,"she said. Sam shrugged.

"No big deal," she said. "Now, do I actually get to see your room, or do I just have to imagine what it looks like?"

"No, you get to see it," Cassie replied. She rotated slowly in a circle, giving Sam a view of her room and the pictures she'd hung on the walls and the rug she'd put on the floor in a futile attempt to make it feel more homey.

"Cozy," Sam remarked sarcastically.

"Yeah," Cassie replied. "I did my best with it, but there isn't much you can do to improve upon cold, hard metal. I miss my apartment. I haven't been there in months."

"Sorry," Sam said. "So, how's your work going?" Cassie groaned and threw herself down on her bed.

"That bad, huh?" Sam asked with a smile. Cassie's only response was another groan.

"You sound stressed," Sam observed.

"Stressed?" Cassie demanded, sitting up. " _Stressed?!_  I was _just_  supposed to help SHIELD fix their brainwashed agents, but then _somehow_  I got roped into this Avengers nonsense and now I'm dealing with a super soldier assassin with multiple personality disorder who's traumatized like you would not _believe_ , and a girl who, quite literally, _felt her brother die_  and needs grief counseling because of it but absolutely refuses to accept my help, and to make matters worse I've got to deal with a nosy little _bitch_  who thinks she's the shit just because her grandmother is Peggy Carter, and she keeps poking her nose where it doesn't belong and basically interrogating Wanda and trying to do the same to James and making both of their problems worse! You think I'm stressed! Believe me sister, stressed doesn't even _begin_  to cover it."

"Geez," Sam said, putting her hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I'm sorry I said anything."

"Don't be," Cassie said hastily. "It actually felt kind of good to get that all out.

"Well, in that case, " Sam said, "I'm glad I could help."

"You should call more often," Cassie said. "I've really missed talking to you."

"I've missed talking to you too," Sam said. "It's not like it was back in high school when we saw each other and could talk to each other every day."

"Nope," Cassie agreed. "Not at all." She propped her tablet up against her pillow and busied herself with tugging at a loose thread on her bedspread. She found that she'd suddenly run out of things to say.

"Hey," Sam said, pulling her attention back to the conversation at hand. "You okay?" Cassie smiled in spite of herself. That was Sam, always looking out for her.

"Yeah," she said. "I just...I've got a lot on my mind."

"Well, I'll leave you to it then," Sam replied, "but I promise I'll call again soon."

"You'd better," Cassie replied jokingly, and when Sam hung up she realized that she couldn't stop herself from grinning.


	9. Chapter 9

Wanda came around a corner to find Sharon and Bucky. She stopped and watched the scene play out in front of her. Bucky was backed into a corner, and Sharon was all but shouting at him, throwing out questions with the force of hammer blows. Bucky kept trying to duck past her, but she stepped into his path, blocking his escape. Bucky flattened himself into the corner, shaking his head in a frantic, panicked manner. Wanda noted the tension in his posture, the terror in his eyes, the way his metal hand kept clenching into a fist and then relaxing, over and over again. She could see that he was on the verge of letting the Winter Soldier out, and she felt a hard ball of fury settle in the pit of her stomach. She watched Sharon continue to hound Bucky, her anger steadily rising. Bucky twitched, his hand jolting upwards like he wanted to grab Sharon and slam her against a wall, and it spilled over.

"I could have sworn Steve told you to leave him alone," she said as she walked over to them, her tone deceptively calm.

"Stay out of this Maximoff!" Sharon snapped. "I have a job to do. He has information I need, and if I have to use certain less than humane methods to get it out of him, I will." Bucky flinched and hunched in on himself, cowering even further back into the corner. It amazed Wanda that someone so big could make himself look so small.

"Very well," she said, careful to maintain her outward calm demeanor despite how furious she was. She turned on her heel and walked away. Bucky made a tortured whimpering sound, and it cut into her like a knife. She faltered.

 _He thinks I'm abandoning him_ , she thought. _He thinks I'm going to leave him and let Sharon tear him apart._  

Had Wanda not suspected that Sharon could read lips she would have turned back to Bucky and mouthed _It's okay. I'm going to get help._  As it was, she walked just far enough away to prevent Sharon from overhearing, then said, "FRIDAY?"

"Good afternoon Miss Maximoff," FRIDAY answered. "What can I do for you?"

"I need you to get Steve," Wanda said.

"Of course," FRIDAY replied. "Shall I inform him of the situation?" She was aware of the situation, of course, since she literally had eyes and ears everywhere.

"No," Wanda said, shaking her head out of habit. "There's no need to upset him prematurely."

"Very well," FRIDAY said. "I'll get to it immediately."

"Please hurry," Wanda replied, but FRIDAY was already gone. She started pacing anxiously back and forth, waiting for Steve. After what felt like an eternity she heard footsteps, and Steve appeared, walking swiftly and purposefully toward her.

"What's going on?" he asked when he reached her. She pointed down the hall and around the corner in answer. Steve brushed past her and headed in that direction. Wanda fell into step behind him, jogging to keep up with his longer strides. They rounded the corner and she stopped dead. The situation was even worse now than it had been when she'd left it. Bucky was scrunched up in the corner, his arms thrown up over his head, left arm over right, as if to block a blow. Sharon was standing over him, her feet planted, her shoulders thrown back. The look on her face made Wanda even angrier than she had been already, if that was possible. It was almost...triumphant. In a rush of air and a blur of motion Steve charged past her, grabbed Sharon by the collar of her shirt, and yanked her backwards, away from Bucky. She slid halfway down the hall before she managed to stop herself, and once she did she stood with her feet splayed, staring at Steve in shock. Steve glared at her, his eyes like dark, angry storm clouds, then knelt in front of Bucky.

"My name is James Buchanan Barnes," Bucky was muttering, oblivious not only to Steve's presence but also to what was going on around him. "My best friend is Steve Rogers, who is known as Captain America."

"Bucky," Steve said in a low, urgent voice. "Come on Buck. Look at me." Bucky's gaze drifted to him, but it was unfocused. He didn't seem to be looking _at_ Steve so much as _through_  him.

"My name is...Bucky? Bucky Barnes?" he mumbled. "My best friend...is-is-is...Steve? I can't remember. I can't remember. I can't-"

"Bucky," Steve pleaded, interrupting him. "Stay with me. Please. I'm not losing you again." Bucky went on muttering "I can't remember" over and over again, ignorant of Steve's pleas. Steve glanced over his shoulder at Wanda, his expression worried and questioning.

 _What do I do?_  he seemed to be asking. Wanda shook her head helplessly. She glanced over at Sharon, who was watching what was going on with Bucky, a horrified expression on her face. It seemed she had just realized what exactly it was that she had done to him. Steve continued to plead with Bucky. His voice had dropped too low for Wanda to be able to make out what he was saying, but his tone was worried, and getting dangerously close to full blown panic. She glanced around frantically for a solution and spotted Cassie coming down the hallway. Because they were around a corner, she hadn't hadn't seen them yet, but Wanda quickly remedied that situation by reaching out with her powers, grabbing Cassie, and yanking her backwards. She put a hand over her mouth to stop her from screaming, then turned her around. Cassie took in the horrified expression on Sharon's face, Bucky's muttered ramblings, the worried, on-the-edge-of-panic tone in Steve's voice, and dropped into a crouch next to him.

"James," she said, her tone gentle but insistent. Bucky ignored her and continued muttering. She listened to him ramble on, her eyebrows creasing into a worried frown.

"He's regressing," she said. Her statement had the air of a clinical pronouncement. "His mind is reverting back to a memory wiped state. We have to snap him out of it."

"Could we slap him?" Sharon asked, startling Wanda. She'd been so focused on what was going on with Bucky that she hadn't even seen her move. "Isn't that usually how you snap someone out of hysterics? By slapping them?"

"Are you insane?" Cassie snapped. "That'll just make it worse."

"He was abused Sharon," Steve put in, his voice the low growl of an angry dog. 

"Oh," Sharon said in a small voice. "Right. What about... a memory? A pleasant one, maybe from his childhood? Something that will make him happy?" Cassie and Steve exchanged a glance.

"Actually," Cassie said thoughtfully. "That could work." She looked over at Steve and asked "Any ideas?" Steve shook his head.

"It could be anything," Cassie prompted. "Something the two of you used to do togther, something he would do when you were upset, anything."

"Well, there is one thing..." Steve said, trailing off.

"Well go!" Cassie urged. "Do it! He's running out of time." Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky and held him tightly, the way one might to comfort a child.

"He used to do this when his sibling were upset to help them calm down," he explained in a low voice, mindful of Bucky, who had started crying with his face buried in the hollow of Steve's shoulder, crying with the horrible, heartbroken sobs of a child in despair. Cassie, who was still crouched in front of him, dropped forward onto her knees and watched him intently. There was something decidedly anxious about her expression. Wanda got the feeling that she wanted to make sure he was no longer in danger of relapsing, but was also keenly aware of how delicate his emotional state was and didn't want to cause him undue distress. She looked over at Steve, her eyes pleading. Steve answered her silent question by shrugging his shoulder, which made Bucky lift his head.

"Hey," Cassie said. "Look at me." Bucky turned his head toward her. His gaze already looked clearer and more focused.

"Do you know who I am?" Cassie asked.

"You're Cassie," Bucky replied. "Cassie Flynn. You helped me with the Winter Soldier." Cassie nodded, looking pleased.

  
"That's right," she said. "Now, do you know where you are?"

"I'm...in the New Avengers facility?" Bucky asked.

  
"Yes, that's right," Cassie said. "Very good!" A tentative smile flitted across Bucky's face. It was only there for an instant, but that instant was enough the lift the spirits and ease the worries of everyone watching.

  
"What's your name?" Cassie asked.

"Bucky Barnes," Bucky replied without hesitation. Cassie shook her head.

"No," she said. "Full name. Come on. You can do it."

"My name is...is..." Bucky started to answer, but hesitated. He frowned in concentration. Steve's arms tightened around him.

"Come on Buck," he murmured. "You know this."

"James!" Bucky exclaimed suddenly. "James Buchanan Barnes." Cassie nodded.

"Who's he?" she asked, pointing at Steve.

"That's Steve Rogers," Bucky said. "He's my best friend." Wanda noticed that he didn't mention the fact that Steve was Captain America or that he was the leader of the Avengers, but of course he wouldn't. That wasn't the information about him that he considered important.

"All right," Cassie said. "And her?"

"Wanda," Bucky replied. "Wanda Maximoff." Cassie nodded enthusiastically and clapped him on the shoulder, grinning hugely.

"I think he's out of danger now," she told Steve, who smiled. Suddenly Sharon shove her way between Bucky and Cassie, who shot her an indignant glare. At the sight of her, Bucky shrank back, turning away from her and once again burying his face in the hollow of Steve's shoulder.

"Oh...oh god," Sharon stammered, a horrified expression still frozen on her face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I-"

"Get back," Steve snapped, cutting her off. She shook her head vigorously.

"I need to apologize," she said.

"There's no apologizing for _this_ ," Steve replied in a clipped tone, gesturing to Bucky with one hand to emphasize his point. His voice was taut with the anger he was barely keeping in check, and Wanda wondered how Sharon couldn't hear it. "There is absolutely no way to excuse what you've done to him."

"I wasn't trying to do anything to him," Sharon protested frantically. "I was just trying to do my job. I didn't know this would happen. Please. Just let me say I'm sorry."

"No," Steve said stonily. "Absolutely not."

"James," Sharon said. Her voice was frantic. Desperate. Bucky flinched at the sound of his real name, and no wonder- Cassie was the only person who ever used it, and no doubt Sharon was a much more hostile presence in his mind than her. "James, please. I'm sorry. Let me say I'm sorry."

"No," Bucky muttered. "No, no, no. Leave-leave me alone. Please just leave me alone."

"I can't," Sharon said. "I need to apologize."

"Leave him alone!" Bucky snapped, and lunged toward her. As Steve hauled him backwards Wanda caught a glimpse of his face and shuddered. For a terrifying instant, he'd been... something other than himself, something terrible and emotionless and cold.

"The Winter Soldier almost came out right there," Cassie whispered fearfully. "If Sharon keeps up like that they're going to separate from each other again."

"Get out," Steve growled through clenched teeth. His anger was now so apparent that even Sharon couldn't possibly have missed it. "Get the hell out of here right now and don't you dare come back. If I didn't have my hands full with the situation you created I swear to God I would throw you out myself." Wanda and Cassie exchanged a glance as they had a moment of shared understanding of just how deep a hole Sharon had dug for herself- Steve didn't use the word God like that if he could help it, and it took a lot to get him angry enough to use it that way.

"Come on Sharon," Cassie said, apparently trying to defuse the situation before someone, namely Sharon, got hurt. "I'll walk you out." Sharon was upset enough that she didn't protest or insist that she was perfectly capable of finding the door on her own the way she usually would have. She simply nodded listlessly and allowed Cassie to put her arm across her shoulders and lead her away. Wanda watched them go.

"Go with them," Steve said. "Bucky's going to need some time alone after all of that." Because Wanda had understood what he'd meant, she didn't bother to point out that,because he was with him, Bucky wouldn't really be alone. Instead, she simply left them to themselves.

Sharon and Cassie had nearly reached the front doors. Sharon was sobbing, her face in her hands. Cassie's arm was still around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she was saying, her voice sodden with tears. "I didn't know that would happen. I didn't mean to do that to him. I swear I didn't." 

"Of course you didn't," Cassie said in a low, soothing tone. "Of course. I hope you understand that you were in the wrong here, though."

"Yes," Sharon replied, her voice quavering.

"Then you'll listen to what Steve told you this time, and not come back here?" Cassie asked.

"I'll-I'll try," Sharon stammered. "My SO might make me come back, but I'll try."

"Good," Cassie said. Coming from anyone else, that might have sounded malicious or scornful, but her tone was perfectly polite. She sounded genuinely pleased to know that Sharon was going to make her effort to change her ways. Sharon waved a shaky, hesitant goodbye, and then, with the drone of a buzzer and the swish of hydraulic hinges, she was gone. The last they saw of her was her blonde hair shining like gold in the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

"Has anyone ever told you that you could have been a diplomat?" Wanda asked, turning to Cassie, who laughed.

"No, I can't say that they have," she said, smiling brightly. Sharon leaving seemed to have lifted a cloud of tension that had been hanging over them. "But I'll keep it in mind in case this whole psychologist thing doesn't work out."

"Well, I'm sure you'd be doing the world a great service," Wanda replied.

"Well, thank you," Cassie said. "That's very kind of you. We should head back. I want to make sure that James is okay." Wanda nodded and followed her back the way they had come. When they reached the hallway had come from they found it empty, which made Cassie sigh with relief.

"Good," she said, smiling. "This is good. Wherever he is, Steve is with him, and Steve can help him through this much better than I can." Wanda noted in the back of her mind that this was not a self disparagement on Cassie's part, merely a statement of fact. With a warm smile on Cassie's part and a parting nod on Wanda's, the two of them went their separate ways, glad that the ordeal with Bucky was over.


	10. Chapter 10

As Sharon approached the New Avengers facility, keenly aware of the fact that she was no longer welcome there, she replayed the conversation that had got her there in the first place in the back of her mind:

_"I can't go back to the New Avengers facility," Sharon said._

_"I'm assuming you have a reasonable explanation as to why not," Agent Major replied snidely. "Because I seriously hope you aren't talking about defying a direct order from a superior."_

_"No, of course not," Sharon said irritably. "I can't go back because Captain Rogers specifically ordered me not to, and I don't think it's wise to defy him. I believe I may have overstepped my boundaries when I interviewed Bucky Barnes._

_"Well, I guess you take orders from me and not Captain Rogers, isn't it?" Agent Major snapped. "As far as_ I'm _concerned you don't_ have _any boundaries to overstep. Get your ass back there and do what I told you to do. I don't give a shit if Rogers objects. Get it done."_

_"Yes sir," Sharon replied angrily._

_"Alright then," Agent Major said. "You're dismissed. And make sure that we don't have this conversation again, or else I'll have no choice but to see to it that you are severely disciplined. Understand?"_

_"Yes sir," Sharon repeated, and left his office._

The drone of a buzzer startled Sharon out of her recollection. The doors swung inward with the now familiar swishing sound of their hydraulic hinges, surprising her. She hadn't expected them to let her in at all, quite frankly. Her emerging feeling of relief was shattered, however, when she stepped inside the alcove between the outer doors of the facility's main entrance and the inner ones and bars slammed down over both sets of doors, trapping her inside.

"Warning," FRIDAY said, her voice sounding oddly echoey. "Unauthorized personnel detected. Security protocols activated."

"Really FRIDAY!?" Sharon cried.

"I'm sorry," FRIDAY said primly, with that familiar disapproving tone. "I don't appear to have a security clearance for you in my database. If you believe this is an error, please state your name and I'll see to it that the issue is resolved."

"My name is Sharon Carter," Sharon snapped. "I work for the CIA, but you already know all this stuff. I've been here at least three times."

"One moment please," FRIDAY said, ignoring Sharon's outburst. After a moment, she said, "Ah, yes. Sharon Carter. I did indeed have clearance for you, but I was instructed by Captain Rogers to delete it after your last visit since he assumed you wouldn't be stupid enough to ignore his direct order." Sharon crossed her arms. She was simultaneously amazed that a computer program could be bitter and sarcastic and annoyed by the fact that someone, namely Tony Stark, would give it the ability to do so in the first place.

"Alright, so you know who I am," she said irritably. "Now let me out!"

"I can't do that, I'm afraid," FRIDAY replied. "You see, your security clearance being deleted from my database makes you unauthorized personnel, which means that certain security protocols have been put in place, protocols that can not be deactivated until the unauthorized person is removed from the premises or they are manually deactivated by someone with the proper authorization to do so. As such, I have had no choice but to call Captain Rogers. I hope you understand."

"No!" Sharon yelled, pounding against the bars that held her. "Damn it FRIDAY! Do you have any idea what he'll do to me!?"

"Forgive me for sounding rude," FRIDAY said, "but that's not my problem. Have a nice day."

Silence fell, and Sharon was alone. She sighed and leaned against the bars, waiting for the anvil of Steve's anger to drop on her.

"Damn it Sharon!" she heard Steve shout a few minutes later. Startled, she leapt back from the bars. She could see that he was still quite a ways off, but his shout had been like a thunderclap, and it had carried.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded when he finally reached her. "I told you to never come back!"

"Do you think I wanted to?" Sharon retorted. "My asshole of an SO made me! He said I hadn't finished my job, and that he would see that I was severely disciplined if I didn't return here!" Steve drew back slightly. Apparently that wasn't the answer he'd been expecting to receive.

"When you said 'severely disciplined'..." he said.

"I meant demoted," Sharon replied. "Or fired. Probably both."

"Well, I don't want you to lose your job..." Steve said quietly, trailing off.

"How considerate of you," Sharon said sarcastically.

"How good of a liar are you?" Steve asked, ignoring her comment.

"Considering I lived across the hall from you for two years without you knowing who I really was, pretty good," Sharon replied. "Why?"

"So if on your report to your So you lied and said that you'd conducted the necessary interviews and found nothing suspicious or questionable, he would believe you?" Steve asked, answering her question in a rather roundabout way.

"If I'm very careful, yes," she replied. "Does this mean you're going to let me out?"

"Yes," Steve said in a clipped tone, "as long as you promise to _stay away_  from Bucky." He was clearly still angry about the events of Sharon's last visit-the words "stay away" had been ground out from between clenched teeth, giving them extra emphasis. 

"Of course," Sharon replied. "I know my boundaries now." She refrained from mentioning that, as far as her SO was concerned, she didn't have any boundaries-it was useless information, especially since she didn't agree with him in that regard. Steve gave her a curt nod and punched something into a screen set into the wall.  A moment later the alarms fell silent. The bars retracted from the doors, and as Sharon stepped through them she saw metal grates retracting from over the windows. Part of the security protocols FRIDAY had mentioned, she guessed.

"FRIDAY?" Steve asked.

"Yes Captain?" FRIDAY replied.

"Is it possible for you to recover a security clearance you've deleted?"

"I can access the backup of the deleted file. Does that help?"

"Yes, actually, it does. I need you to recover Sharon's security clearance."

"But sir-"

"Just do it FRIDAY."

"Yes sir," FRIDAY said reluctantly. After a moment, she added, "Done."

"Good," Steve said, nodding. He looked over at Sharon.

"I need you to come with me," he told her. "I need to explain the situation to the others, and something's liable to happen to you if I let you go wandering the facility by yourself. I'm sure many of them wouldn't hesitate to kill you if they got the chance and they thought they could get away with it." 

Sharon nodded mutely. Despite-or perhaps because of-the truth of it, Steve's last statement had robbed her of her voice. She followed Steve into the facility, noting that his direction seemed purposeful-he didn't appear to be wandering in search of anyone. He apparently knew where everyone in the New Avengers facility was at all times. Just one more thing to be attributed to FRIDAY and the facility's security system, it seemed.

  
Steve led her to a room she'd never seen before, the recreation room by the look of it. Natasha and Bucky were curled up on opposite ends of the couch in the center of the room, both of them immersed in books. Sam, Scott, and Rhodey were seated on the floor in front of it, playing a video game while Wanda looked on. Cassie was sitting cross-legged in an armchair in the corner, a laptop balanced across her knees. Steve cleared his throat. The people in the room turned toward him. When they saw Sharon, their expressions turned angry and hostile, with the exception of Bucky, who simply looked terrified. He backed into a corner and the rest of the group congregated around him, shielding him from Sharon's view, like a pack of wolves protecting a wounded member. On the whole, it was rather unsettling.

"So, um..." Steve stammered. The hostile environment was clearly getting to him. "She's-" he gestured to Sharon- "sorry for what she did, and she, um...well, she's got a job to do, and if she doesn't do it she'll get fired, and I don't want her to get fired, so... I guess you'll be seeing a lot of her around here, because she needs to gather enough information to be able to falsify a report to her SO. So yeah. That's the situation. Um... any questions?"

  
"What about James?" somebody in the group piped up. Sharon felt sure it'd been Cassie.

"Sharon promised to stay away from him," Steve said.

"Fat lot of good _that'll_ do," somebody muttered.

"She works for the CIA," somebody else added. "What good are her promises?"

"Alright, that's enough," Steve scolded. "Believe me, I'm as angry about what she did as you are, probably more so, but I'm willing to accept the fact that she wants to make up for it, and I expect you to do the same. I'm saying that you have to be best friends, or that like her, but at least _try_   to be civil? _Please_?" There was some grumbling from the group, but they dispersed, slowly and reluctantly, exposing Bucky, who looked frantically back and forth and bolted from the room. Sharon sighed.

"I guess I'd better go," she said. "I know when I'm not wanted."

"Sorry," Steve said, and, to Sharon's surprise, he really sounded like he meant it. "I'd tell you that they'll warm up to you, but..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Sharon replied ruefully. "Don't hold your breath."

"Pretty much," Steve said. "Do you want me to walk you out?"

"No, that's okay," Sharon replied. "I'm sure I'll manage. Thanks anyway." She turned and went back the way she had come, leaving Steve standing alone in the doorway of the rec room.


	11. Chapter 11

_Thump_. Cassie's eyelids fluttered open. She lay in the dark and waited. A moment later it came again. _Thump_. This time it was followed by the creaking of bedsprings, and Cassie realized that the thumping was the legs of a bed lifting off the floor and then slamming back down on it. Everything was silent for a while, then came a scream, harsh, raw throated, and terrified, followed by the ringing crash of metal striking metal. It sounded like James had just hit a wall with his mechanical arm.

 _Night terrors_ , Cassie thought, sitting up in bed and drawing her knees up to her chest. _James has night terrors. Wonderful._

She rested her chin on her knees and sighed. She doubted she would get much sleep that night. She was on the edge of drifting off again when a loud _thud_ , followed by a startled cry, jerked her back into awareness.

"James?" she called fearfully. There was no answer, but then again, she hadn't really been expecting one. James was, after all, asleep. She got out of bed and went to her door, opening it just far enough for her to slip out into the hallway before closing it behind her. She tried James' door and found it locked, which she really should have expected. He always locked his door at night.

"FRIDAY," she hissed in a low voice.

"Yes, Doctor Flynn?" FRIDAY asked.

"Unlock James' door for me, will you?" Cassie replied. "I need to check on him."

"Of course," FRIDAY said. "Just a moment." As promised, a moment later Cassie heard a _click_ , and when she tried James' door again it swung open easily. She stepped cautiously into his room, closing the door behind her. James was laying on the floor in front of his bed, whimpering and thrashing around, his sheets tangled around his legs. That explained the thud-he must have flailed around so much that he fell out of bed.

 _What do I do?_ Cassie thought, her hand still on the doorknob. _If I wake him, he's liable to lash out, and he's stronger than me, and I could end up being seriously hurt. On the other hand, if I don't wake him,_ he _could end up getting hurt._

"FRIDAY," she whispered urgently, coming to a decision.

"Yes?" FRIDAY replied. James stirred at the sound of her voice, but didn't wake.

"Get Steve for me please," Cassie said. "I need his help."

"Yes Doctor," FRIDAY said. "I'll get on that right away." She was silent after that. Cassie leaned against James' door to wait, watching him thrash and whimper, feeling like a voyeur. After about ten minutes there was a knock on the door, and urgent but barely audible _tap tap tap_ , like a timid woodpecker. Cassie opened the door to find Steve's anxious face staring into her own. She stepped aside to let him into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He took in James thrashing and whimpering on the floor and asked "What's going on? What's happening to him?"

"He's experiencing something known as night terrors," Cassie explained. "I'm afraid he's going to hurt himself if he doesn't wake up soon. I would have woken him myself, but..." She trailed off.

"But what?" Steve asked.

"It's possible that he might lash out at whoever tries to wake him," Cassie said, "and he's much stronger than me, so if I do it I could end up being seriously hurt." Steve took that in for a moment, then nodded.

"So you need me to do it," he said, "because I'm less likely to be hurt if he lashes out." Cassie nodded anxiously. She went over to James' bed and sat down on it, folding one leg up underneath her and letting the other one dangle over the edge.

"Bucky," Steve whispered, dropping into a crouch at James' side and shaking his shoulder. "Come on Buck. Wake up." Still half asleep, James lashed out with his metal arm. Steve leapt back out of the way and his arm collided with the floor with a loud crash. He jerked awake, blinking blearily at his friend.

"Steve?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "What-what's going on? Why am I on the floor?"

"You fell out of bed," Cassie spoke up, drawing his attention to her.

"Okay, but why is Steve in my room?" he asked. After a slight pause, he added "Why are you in my room?"

"I heard you screaming and thrashing around, so I came in to investigate," Cassie told him. "Steve is here because I was afraid you would hurt yourself if I didn't wake you up, and I needed his help to that."

"I don't remember screaming or thrashing," James said, sitting up. He  massaged his temples as if he was trying to bring memories to the surface through physical pressure. "I don't even remember falling out of bed. Was I having a nightmare?"

"Night terrors, actually," Cassie said simply. James exhaled explosively and slumped back against the side of his bed.

"I'm sorry," Cassie added, seeing how badly the news had affected him.

"Don't be," James replied in a whisper. "It's not your fault." Cassie sighed.

"I _know_  it's not my fault," she said. "I'm _trying_  to express sympathy, damn it! " James smiled the smallest of smiles and closed his eyes.

"Do you want your bed back?" Cassie asked him. He responded with the barest shake of his head. 

"What's the point?" he asked bitterly. "I'll just fall out of it again." Cassie and Steve sighed sadly in unison.

"Alright," Cassie said. "It's your decision." She yawned hugely and added, "I don't know about you, but I'm going to try and get some sleep."

"That sounds like a pretty good idea, actually," James said. Cassie nodded.

"Steve?" she asked.

"You know I'm not going to be able to sleep," Steve replied tiredly.

"Oh," Cassie said in a small voice. For a moment she'd forgotten about his hypnophobia. "Right. Sorry. Will you keep an eye on James for me then?"

"Of course," Steve said, nodding.

"Thank you," Cassie replied, her statement punctuated by another huge yawn. She flopped over sideways and curled up into a ball, her back to the door.

"Good night," she mumbled, already drifting off.

"Good night," Steve replied, and that was the last thing she was aware of before she fell asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Night terrors. That, according to Cassie, was the reason why Bucky and Steve had shown up late to training, both of them looking utterly exhausted. Bucky had night terrors, and in the middle of the night had had to be woken up before he hurt himself, and Cassie had needed Steve's help to do that. Wanda got the distinct impression that Steve's exhaustion in particular was down to something more than just having to help Bucky in the middle of the night, but she didn't press the issue. She had other, more immediate things to deal with at the moment. Natasha was training the New Avengers extra hard to make up for Steve's inability to participate on that particular day, and if Wanda allowed her thoughts to drift even for a second she would find herself flat on the floor, knocked off her feet by Natasha, who, along with Scott, was serving as her sparring partner. She was only slightly comforted by the fact that Scott was spending a lot more time being knocked on his ass then she was. He was actually a decent fighter, but Wanda had the advantage of her powers, and no one could match Natasha's fighting skill.

By the time Natasha called a halt they were all bruised and sore, and Wanda was thoroughly worn out. She would have thought that she'd be used to this by now-Natasha always took a much more aggressive approach to training than Steve did-but she wasn't, and didn't think she ever would be. There were just some things you never got used to. 

Her thoughts drifted to Bucky's night terrors. Would he, in time, learn to deal with them, or would they become one of those things that _he_  never got used to? She tried to brush the thought aside, but it kept coming back, nagging and insistent. She supposed she felt sorry for him, when she really took the time to consider it. No one should have to go through even half of what he was going through, and it was becoming increasingly clear that, despite Cassie's best efforts, his situation was going to get worse before it got better.

"Wanda," Cassie's voice hissed, interrupting her train of thought. She looked around and saw Cassie beckoning to her from a doorway farther up the hall. She went over to her and could see the interior of her office past her shoulder.

"Get inside," Cassie told her urgently. "Quickly. There's something I need to tell you." Wanda nodded and followed her into the room.

"I'll get right to it," Cassie said, closing the door behind her. "The reason Steve looked so exhausted is not because he woke up in the middle of the night to help me with James. It's because he didn't sleep at all. He has hypnophobia."

"Okay," Wanda replied. "And that is?"

"The fear of sleep," Cassie explained. "Caused by nightmares so intense and frequent that the sufferer avoids sleep for fear of experiencing them. In Steve's case I believe the nightmares in question are caused by his extreme PTSD."

"That's terrible," Wanda said, and meant it, "but why are you telling me?"

"Seeing as you already looked suspicious as to the actual cause of Steve's exhaustion, I didn't think it was right to keep it from you," Cassie told her, "and anyway I figured you had a right to know, since you seem pretty close not only to him but also to James."

"As close as I can be to anyone, I suppose," Wanda said quietly, thinking of her brother. Cassie reached out and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder, clearly trying to be reassuring. Wanda looked at her and she dropped her hand.

"Sorry," she said, blushing. "You just looked really sad all of a sudden, and I was trying to make you feel better."

"I understand," Wanda said. "Thanks for trying."

"Anytime," Cassie replied nervously. They stood in awkward silence before Wanda finally broke it by saying, "I should probably go. No doubt everyone's wondering where I've gotten to."

"Of course," Cassie replied. "I won't keep you any longer. Enjoy the rest of your day."

"Thanks," Wanda called as she left Cassie's office behind. "You too!"


	13. Chapter 13

"Cassie?" Sharon asked, rapping cautiously on her office door with her knuckles. She started to wonder if Cassie was even there at all, but then a voice called "Come in!" from within the room, assuaging her doubt. She entered the room to find Cassie curled up in her office chair, reading and drinking coffee out of a blue ceramic mug. She watched Sharon over its rim as she entered.

"Hi," she said. "What's up?"

"I need to talk to you about Steve," Sharon replied in a rush. Cassie raised a quizzical eyebrow at her.

"All right," she said, gesturing to the chair on Sharon's side of her desk. "Have a seat."

"So," she said when Sharon had made herself comfortable. "What's on your mind? I mean, obviously it's Steve, but what about him?"

"Well..." Sharon began. "Do you remember when we first met and you asked me what my issue was with him?" Cassie nodded.

"I didn't really know at the time, not completely, but I think I've figured it out now," Sharon continued.

"Okay," Cassie said. "And?"

"I think... I think I have a... crush on him," Sharon stammered. Cassie cast her a startled glance.

"What?" she asked, almost as if she hadn't quite understood what Sharon had said.

"I don't know how else to describe it," Sharon said, sheepish and defensive, "but I wish I didn't feel it. I shouldn't be feeling it. It's wrong."

"Wrong?" Cassie asked. "Why is it wrong?"

"I've been assigned by my superiors to keep an eye on the Avengers, which includes him," Sharon explained, "and that makes it a conflict of interest. Besides, he's...he's in love with my grandmother."

"Your grandmother...Oh!" Cassie said, her half-formed question left unsaid as she retrieved the answer from the recesses of her memory. "That's right. Peggy Carter." Sharon nodded anxiously and looked pleadingly at Cassie, silently begging her for her help.

"Well Sharon," Cassie said, apparently hearing her silent question. "I... I really don't know what to tell you. Relationship aren't really my strong suit, to be honest. Aside from the guilt, it seems like this is more an emotional issue than a psychological one."

"I understand," Sharon replied dejectedly, hanging her head.

"Don't look so sad!" Cassie exclaimed, trying for a reassuring smile. "I only meant that I'm not sure how to help you, not that I won't. It'll be hard, but I'm sure given enough time I can figure something out." Sharon nodded, feeling slightly better.

"If you want, I can talk to Steve about this," Cassie offered. "He might be able to help with it."

"No!" Sharon cried. Cassie drew back, startled.

"Sorry," Sharon said apologetically. "It's just...if word of this gets back to my superiors... I could lose my job. No one can know about it but you and me."

"Alright," Cassie replied. "So no telling Steve then."

"Or anyone else," Sharon reminded her.

"Or anyone else," she amended. She sighed heavily and threw herself against the back of her chair.

"You do know you can't keep it a secret forever, right?" she asked. "Even if I keep my mouth shut about it, which I will, someone's bound to figure it out eventually."  
  


"I know," Sharon said.

"Okay," Cassie replied, nodding. "Just so long as you're aware. The question remains, however, of how I'm supposed to help you with this. Like I said before, relationships aren't exactly my strong point."

"That's fine," Sharon said. "I appreciate your willingness to try."

"I know this sounds really bad," Cassie went on as if she hadn't spoken, "but I almost wish that you _were_  suffering from some sort of mental trauma. That, at least, I would be able to diagnose. That I would know how to fix."

"Speaking of mental trauma," Sharon put in, "how are things going with Bucky?"

"Ugghh," Cassie groaned. "Don't ask." Sharon looked down at the floor, overcome with guilt.

"I really am sorry, you know," she said. "For what I did to him, I mean."

"I know," Cassie assured her. "I believe you. Everyone else may not, but I do."

"Does-" Sharon started to say, but her mouth went dry, preventing her from getting the words out. She swallowed with some difficulty and tried again. "Does Steve believe that I'm sorry?" Cassie thought for a moment, then said, "Yes, I think so. It can be hard to get a read on him sometimes, but it certainly looks that way."

"Well, that's a relief," Sharon replied.

"Isn't is though?" Cassie agreed emphatically.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sharon asked.

"Just that Steve is a very trusting person," Cassie explained. "So if _he_  doesn't trust you or believe you then you know you've done something wrong. Must be nice to know that you haven't screwed up as badly as you thought you did, huh?"

"You can say that again," Sharon said. Cassie laughed, a sound that was half amused, and, strangely, half relieved.

"I could," she said, her tone teasing, "but I won't. I know we kind of drifted away from the subject of your feelings for Steve, but why don't you tell me how they started. That might help me to pinpoint the solution to helping you deal with them."

"Okay," Sharon said, nodding. "Well, when I was little my grandmother would tell me war stories-"

"War stories as in literal stories about the war or war stories as in stories about her time with the SSR and SHIELD?" Cassie put in.

"Both," Sharon told her. "Anyway, because she worked so closely with the Howling Commandos, Steve came up in a lot of her stories, and the way she described him... well, it used to make me wonder how she really felt about my grandfather, since she always sounded so in love with Steve and at the time I didn't know it was possible to love two people at the same time."

"Well, of course it is," Cassie said. "After all, there's different kinds of love."

"I know that now," Sharon replied, "but that's not the point. Can I continue?"

"Yes of course," Cassie said. "Sorry. Go on."

"Thank you," Sharon replied, with more than a hint of exasperation. "Now, as I got older, my grandmother's stories stuck with me. In fact, they were what inspired me to join SHIELD. I thought I would be doing some good in the world, working for the organization that she'd helped to found."

"And that's what led you to meeting Steve?" Cassie asked.

"In a rather roundabout way, yes," Sharon said. "After I'd been working for SHIELD for a while Director Fury sent out a notice to all agents requesting back-up for Steve. He needed someone to move in across the hall from him and keep an eye on him and provide him with assistance should he ever have need of it. Apparently Fury was afraid that Steve may have made some very dangerous enemies somewhere along the line, enemies that might have tried to cause him harm unless some kind of failsafe was implemented."

"So you volunteered?" Cassie wanted to know. Sharon nodded.

"I wanted to see if he really was the man in my grandmother's stories," she said.

"And was he?"

"That and more. Before I met him I had always assumed that my  grandmother had been exaggerating or misremembering the details, that no one person could be everything that she'd said he was, but now... now I know that he is, in fact, everything that she said he was, that and a million other things besides. And after a while... well, I couldn't help myself. I started to fall for him."

"It seems you have more in common with your grandmother than you thought," Cassie said.

"Indeed," Sharon agreed with a nod. "It appears that we share a weakness for Steve Rogers."

"Does Steve know about your background?" Cassie asked. "I mean, does he know that  you're related to Peggy Carter?" Sharon shook her head.

"No," she said. "I never told anyone at SHIELD about my personal ties to the organization. Its agents tend to idolize Peggy, and I didn't want them to treat me differently because of my connection to her. If I was going to have their respect or their admiration, I was going to earn it."

"But surely _someone_ must have figured it out," Cassie protested, looking bewildered. "Surely _someone_  must have realized that you weren't the first Agent Carter to work for SHIELD."

"You'd be surprised how common of a last name Carter is," Sharon replied. "If anyone noticed the fact that I share it with SHIELD's most famous agent, they must have thought it was just a coincidence."

"So no one figured it out?" Cassie asked. "Not even Steve?"

"Especially not Steve," Sharon replied. "I was undercover when I was living across the hall from him. Until Fury got shot, he didn't know I was a SHIELD agent. He didn't even know my real name."

"And now that he knows?" Cassie asked.

"He still hasn't figured it out," Sharon said. "He's gotten close a couple of times, but he has yet to fully reach that conclusion. Now granted, I put a lot of work in to keeping it secret from everyone all these years, but there's a part of me that wonders that maybe if I sounded more like her when I talked he would have figured it out by now."

"So not only has your grandmother influenced your career choices, but you've picked up her mannerisms too, enough so that if, as you say, you talked more like her, which I take to mean if you spoke with the same accent, then Steve would figure out that you're related?" Cassie asked.

"Exactly," Sharon said, "though I can't exactly say that surprises me. I honestly think I spent more of my time with her and with my cousin than with my parents."

"Who's your cousin?" Cassie asked.

"You probably don't know him," Sharon replied, "but his name is John Sousa. He was part of the Project Insight launch crew, and was a crew member on the helicarrier that facilitated the evacuation of Sokovia."

"Hmmm," Cassie said thoughtfully. "Why is his last name Sousa rather than Carter?"

"I suppose I'd better explain that," Sharon said with a smile, amusement coloring her tone. "You see, even after got married people continued to call her by her maiden name. The only people who didn't were people who didn't know her, and, because of that, when my dad and his sibling were old enough they were given a choice of whose last name they would use from that point on-their mother's or their father's."

"So your dad chose to use your grandmother's last name," Cassie began.

"And my uncle chose to use my grandfather's," Sharon finished for her. "Funny story about that, actually. John's mother was in marching band in college, and she has a bit of an odd sense of humor, so his full name ended up being John Philip Sousa."

"Oh! Oh goodness!" Cassie exclaimed, laughing. "That's hilarious!" She collapsed into fits of helpless giggles, curling up in on herself from the force of them.

"Yeah, well, if you ever meet him, don't tell him I told you that," Sharon said, grinning. "He _hates_ his full name. He thinks it's embarrassing."

"Aha! Ahahaha! Don't worry," Cassie said, still laughing. "I won't, but my goodness that's funny! John Philip Sousa? Why not?"

"You know," she continued, sobering up, her tone suddenly serious. "I would have liked to have met your grandmother. I mean, I met her once, when I took James to visit his sister, but she wasn't exactly...herself then. I would have liked to have met her when she was still the woman that you and Steve knew. You know, before the... before..."

"Before the Alzheimer's?" Sharon offered. Cassie nodded.

"Yeah," Sharon said. Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "It was hard on all of us when that started happening. Sometimes she was the woman we had known and loved all our lives, and other times... she wasn't. Sometimes she wouldn't know who I was, or who my cousin was, or who my dad was, or she wouldn't recognize my grandfather in pictures. There was more than one occasion where she thought that Steve's crash had just happened a few days ago, and she would insist that she had to help Howard look for him, and seemed not to remember that Howard was dead."

"Howard Stark?" Cassie interjected.

"The very same," Sharon agreed, nodding. "Anyway, things like that...they happened a lot."

"Well, that sounds truly terrible," Cassie said empathetically.

"It was," Sharon said. "It still is. If there's one thing I'm grateful for, though, it's that my grandfather died before it started happening. It would have torn him apart to see her that way." She fell silent after that. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes, and her throat closed up, cutting off her voice, with the effort of stopping them from spilling over. She had expected to encounter some difficulty  with talking to Cassie, but the thing she had expected to have trouble talking about had actually come out quite easily. When the topic of conversation had turned to what had happened to her grandmother, though... _that_ had hurt. It had reopened old wounds, and pain that had long since been dulled with time and resignation was suddenly jagged and sharp and new again. She put her face in her hands, an image of her grandfather flashing before her eyes, his dark hair peppered with grey, his face etched with laugh lines, the crow's feet around his eyes crinkling up as he smiled. That was something Sharon remembered about him quite clearly- despite having every right to be bitter and angry at the world, he was rarely not smiling.

"Why shouldn't I smile," he would say, pulling her grandmother close, "when this incredible woman is my wife?" He had loved her so much, and it was heartbreaking to think that now there were times when she didn't even remember who he was, let alone how much he had loved her and how much she had loved him.

 _I'm sorry that this happened_ , Sharon thought. _If you can hear me, Granddad...I'm sorry._  A soft _plink_  interrupted her musings. She lifted her face from her hands to find that Cassie had set a mug full of steaming coffee in front of her. She accepted it with a grateful nod, holding it in both hands and feeling the heat from it leach into the skin of her palms. She stared at the steam curling off the surface of the liquid, mesmerized.

"Hey," Cassie said, jolting her out of her reverie. "You okay?" All Sharon could bring herself to do was shake her head sadly.

"What's going on?" Cassie asked.

"I was just...thinking about my grandfather," Sharon replied, her voice hoarse with the tears she still refused to allow herself to cry. "He and my grandmother... they were so in love, even after forty years of marriage. The magic never went out of their relationship, you know? I remember thinking that I wanted that, someday. What they had, I mean. Now though...sometimes my grandmother doesn't even remember what they had. She forgets my grandfather's name, his face, what they'd been through together, that he loved her, that she loves _him_...everything. She _forgets_. Something, _someone_ , that important to her, and she just... forgets. It's just...it's heartrending. I don't know how else to describe it. Every time I'm around when it happens it feels like someone is tearing my heart into little pieces."

"I'm really sorry," Cassie said. "I wish I could make you feel better, but I get the feeling that nothing short of your grandmother's miraculous recovery will." Sharon didn't respond to that, mostly because it was true. They sat in silence for a while. Cassie went back to reading, and Sharon shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wondering if maybe she should leave. Cassie set her book back down and smiled at her, almost as if she had sensed her intentions.

"Can I ask you something?" Sharon asked.

"Of course," Cassie replied. "That's what I'm here for."

"The way I feel about Steve...do you feel the same way about his friend?"

"You mean James? No, of course not."

"Then why is it that every time I see you two together you're always touching him? You've always got your hand on his arm or whatever. Maybe it's none of my business, but it's been bothering me for a while now." Cassie sighed heavily.

"James has, shall we say, social anxiety," she said, "but on an extreme level. He lives in near constant fear that he will lose control and the Winter Soldier will come out and hurt someone, so he finds social interaction extremely difficult. However, he knows that I know how to help him regain control should the Soldier ever break through again, so my touching him is to offer reassurance-if he knows I am with him he can face social situations much more easily." Sharon nodded and the two of them fell into silence again. Left to her own thoughts, Sharon found them drifting back toward her grandfather.

"Goldilocks," she muttered, remembering.

"Huh?" Cassie asked, looking up from her book.

"Goldilocks," Sharon repeated. "It's...it's what my grandfather used to call me."

"Oh," Cassie replied. "Because of your hair?" Sharon nodded.

"You know, I would really like to have a chat with you about your grandfather," Cassie told her. "Hearing you talk about him, it would seem that he's influenced your life just as profoundly as your grandmother has, though maybe not in the same ways." Sharon didn't immediately respond. She knew, deep down, that Cassie was right, but she wasn't really in the mood to "have a chat" about him, as she had put it. It was the clock that saved her-she glanced at it and saw that it was about time for her to leave before her SO  started to wonder what had happened to her.

"Yeah, well, maybe some other time," she said, getting up from her chair. "Right now I really need to be going."

"Alright," Cassie said, smiling at her as she headed for the door. "Take care." Sharon nodded her thanks and left, heading back to the place that, if she was being honest with herself, she was starting to hate. 


	14. Chapter 14

Cassie woke late in the morning and sighed. She was exhausted. After Sharon had left she'd done some research on her grandfather, and despite having been at it for the rest of that day and most of that night have found nothing useful. It was like trying to do a school project on somebody no one had ever heard of.

"How can there be so much information on Peggy Carter and so little on her husband?" she grumbled to herself.

"Good morning Doctor Flynn," FRIDAY chirped. "Nice to see you're finally awake. I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to inform Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes that you intended to spend the day sleeping."

"Leave me alone FRIDAY," Cassie groaned, pulling her covers over her head. "I'm not awake."

"Yes you are," FRIDAY replied. "You wouldn't be talking back to me if you weren't"

 _Damn Tony and his literal minded AIs_ , Cassie thought.

"Fine," she said. "If you're not going to let me sleep, at least make yourself useful."

"Of course Doctor Flynn," FRIDAY replied sweetly. "How may I be of assistance?"

"I need you to do an Internet search for Daniel Sousa," Cassie said. She didn't really expect FRIDAY to find anything she hadn't, but she hoped that her advanced programing might allow her to catch something she'd overlooked.

"One moment please," FRIDAY said.

"I found something," she informed Cassie after a brief pause. "An obituary, dated April sixteenth 1990. 'Daniel Sousa, of Brooklyn, New York, died peacefully in his sleep yesterday, aged seventy-two. He is survived by his wife Peggy, his sons Roger and Michael, his daughter Elizabeth, and his grandchildren Sharon and John. Funeral services for Mr. Sousa will be held-"

"I know all that already," Cassie interjected, cutting her off. "Anything else?" Another pause, then FRIDAY said, "Yes. A wedding announcement, announcing the marriage of Margaret Carter to Daniel Sousa at St. Patrick's Cathedral in Manhattan on the fifteenth of December, 1950."

"Hmmm," Cassie said thoughtfully. She'd missed that in her initial search, but, while it was interesting, it wasn't particularly useful. All it told her was that Peggy Carter and Daniel Sousa had been married for forty years before Daniel's death, and she had already learned that from Sharon.

"You aren't telling me anything that I don't already know FRIDAY," she said, hoping she didn't sound as frustrated as she felt.

"I apologize," FRIDAY said, "but there is simply no more information to be found here. If you like I can alter the search parameters, or continue the search from a different source-"

"Wait," Cassie said, interrupting her. "Do you have access to SHIELD's databases?"

"Yes," FRIDAY said. That was the nice thing about AIs-they never seemed to mind being interrupted.

"All right," Cassie replied. "Continue your search there then."

"As you wish," FRIDAY said. "Shall I alter the search parameters?"

"No," Cassie replied, shaking her head. "Keep those the same."

"Very well," FRIDAY said. "One moment please."Another pause followed, significantly longer than the first two, before she spoke up with, "Search complete. 1093 results found."

"Wow," Cassie said, her interest piqued. She sat up in bed, her sheets rustling as she did so. "That's a lot. I wasn't expecting that many. Does SHIELD have any SSR files included in their databases?"

"Yes," FRIDAY replied. "All SSR files have been successfully digitized." Cassie wondered if that was entirely true, since she remembered there being a lot of old SSR files in Director Coulson's base.

"Does that include case reports and personnel files?" she asked.

"Yes," FRIDAY answered. "Would you like me to include those in the search results?"

"Any pertaining to Daniel Sousa, yes," Cassie told her.

"One moment please," she replied. After the promised moment, she said, "1197 results." Cassie whistled.

"Okay, _now_  we're getting somewhere," she said.

"It would appear that way," FRIDAY replied. "However, there are far too many results for you to get through at once. Would you like me to import them to your tablet so that you can peruse them at your leisure?"

"That would be great," Cassie said cheerfully. "Thanks FRIDAY!"

"You're welcome,"FRIDAY replied. "I live to serve." Cassie laughed.

"It's great having a computer with a sense of humor," she said, without even a hint of sarcasm.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," FRIDAY said. "I was being completely serious." Cassie laughed again.

"Sure you were FRIDAY," she said. "Sure you were."

"I was," FRIDAY insisted. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you'd allow me to fufill your request,"

"Of course," Cassie replied. "Sorry." She fell silent and fidgeted nervously, tugging absentmindedly at the loose thread on her bedspread. A few minutes later her tablet emitted a mechanical sounding bell tone. She picked it up off her nightstand and looked at it. A message was flashing on the screen- _Files imported successfully._

"Thanks FRIDAY," she said. "This should be a big help."

"You're welcome," FRIDAY replied. "Why the sudden interest in this Daniel Sousa, if you don't mind my asking?"

"He's Sharon's grandfather," Cassie explained, only half listening. She was busy scrolling through the files on her tablet. She noticed that Sousa had partnered with Peggy Carter on the vast majority of his cases, which was interesting if not entirely surprising.

"I see," FRIDAY said, "and this information will allow you to more effectively assist Agent Carter in dealing with her...issues?"

"If we're talking about her issues with Steve," Cassie replied, "then no. However, it became clear to me during our conversation yesterday that Daniel Sousa was and is extremely important to her, perhaps even more important than she realizes. I thought that knowing more about him would give me a good starting point for any future conversations I may have with her about their relationship."

"I see," FRIDAY repeated. "If you don't need me for anything else, I believe I'll-"

"Wait," Cassie said, interrupting her yet again. "FRIDAY, what's this? 'Project Rebirth'? Isn't that what they called the super soldier program?"

"Yes," FRIDAY replied after a moment. "Considering Agent Carter's 'issues', as you called them, with Captain Rogers, I thought you might find some extra information on him helpful in assisting her in dealing with them."

"But I've already read Steve's Project Rebirth file," Cassie protested, because she had, back when she'd been helping James overcome the Winter Soldier, though so much had happened since then that it felt like a distant memory.

"Be that as it may," FRIDAY countered, "I thought that perhaps you could use a refresher. Besides, there was considerably more to Project Rebirth than just Captain Rogers." Cassie thought about that for a moment and realized that it was true. There had been the senator who'd funded the project, as well as Dr. Erskine, Colonel Phillips, Howard Stark, and Peggy Carter, not to mention the countless SSR agents and army personnel who'd kept the project up and running and the other candidates in the program, the ones who had been ultimately rejected in favor of Steve. Even just trying to keep them all straight in her head she quickly lost track.

"All right," she said, and without waiting for FRIDAY's reply, curled up with her tablet and began to read.


	15. Chapter 15

_Yes!_   Wanda thought triumphantly as, for the first time since her training began, she was able to knock Natasha off her feet without resorting to the use of her powers. Her spirits still soaring, she reached out with her consciousness for Pietro and felt-nothing. In the next instant the weight of her grief, the grief she had been keeping bottled up inside for so long, suddenly crashed down on her like  a tidal wave as her triumphant feeling faded and she remembered one simple and terrible fact-Pietro was gone. She collapsed, falling to her knees on the floor, and wept bitterly, her shoulders shaking with sobs. She pulled her knees up to her chest and continued to weep with her face buried in the crook of her elbow, though such efforts were probably futile by now. Everyone had probably already seen her bawling like a baby. She was dimly aware of  the roar of miniature jet engines, faint at first but then growing steadily louder, then of running footsteps.

"Wanda!" Sam's voice cried. "Wanda, are you okay? Are you hurt?" Wanda couldn't muster the energy to stop crying long enough to answer him or even to lift her head from her arms, so she responded with the barest shake of her head, giving him her answer to both questions without saying a word.

"Do you need me to get Cassie?" Sam asked. Wanda nodded, and a moment later heard the running footsteps recede, heading away from her.  About five minutes later she heard more footsteps, two sets this time, and then Cassie's voice asked "Wanda? Are you okay?" Wanda shook her head, idly wondering why Cassie even had to ask, since she thought it seemed pretty obvious that she wasn't okay. 

"Do you need to talk to me in my office?" Cassie asked. Wanda nodded.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Sam put in. Wanda nodded again. She lifted her head from her arms to find Sam and Cassie standing in front of her, Sam with a hand outstretched to help her up. She grasped the offered hand and he pulled her gently to her feet. He started to pull away after that, but she refused to relinquish her grip on his hand. She wasn't sure why. Maybe she just desperately needed to feel some sort of connection with someone. He raised a quizzical eyebrow at her, then shrugged and followed Cassie to her office, maintaining their connection the entire way. He only let go of her hand once Cassie had closed her office door behind them.

"Alright Wanda," Cassie said, placing herself in her chair. "Have a seat." Wanda crossed the room and dropped into the chair across Cassie's desk from her like a stone.

"What happened?" Cassie asked gently.

"I-I was sparring with Natasha," Wanda said hesitantly, "and I managed to knock her off her feet without using my powers."

"I  saw that," Sam interjected. "That was well done."

"Thank you," Wanda replied, then lapsed into silence.

"Go on," Cassie prompted.

"I-I knocked Natasha off her feet," Wanda said," and... I was excited, so I reached for Pietro and felt...nothing. In my excitement I had forgotten he was gone, but in that moment... I remembered everything suddenly, all at once, and I just couldn't take it. It was too much." Cassie startled Wanda by getting up from her chair and wrapping her in a fierce, rib-crushing hug. She stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, resting her head against Cassie's shoulder. The last person to hold her like this had been her brother, and the thought of him brought fresh tears. Cassie's arms tightened around her, and she held her until her crying quieted. She wept in silence for a few minutes more after that, until her tear subsided, leaving her feeling like a dried out, empty husk. She pulled away from Cassie, got to her feet, and began pacing back and forth behind her chair, suddenly feeling like she was trapped and needed to escape.

"Hey," Sam said, catching her by the wrist. "Relax. It's going to be okay."

"Is it Sam?" Wanda asked bitterly, yanking her wrist out of his grip and continuing to pace. "Is it really going to be okay?"

"Of course it is," Sam replied, trying for a reassuring smile.

"How?" Wanda demanded. "How can it be okay? How, when I've lost everything?"

"Not everything," Sam countered. "You have us." His voice dropping to a whisper, he added, "You have me." Behind Wanda, Cassie made a noise of surprise. Wanda might have done the same, had she not been numbed by her grief and misery to react to much of anything. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sam give a little start and drop his head into his hands. Apparently his earlier statement had been said in haste, and he was just now realizing exactly what he had said. Cassie shifted uncomfortably in her chair, making it creak, and the three of them lapsed into awkward silence.

"Look Wanda," Sam said quietly, finally breaking it, walking toward her. "I-" He cut himself off with a shake of his head.

"Can you please stop pacing?" he asked. "It's really distracting." Wanda stuttered to a stop like a wind-up toy running out of power and stared at him. Sam reached out hesitantly and put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched at the unexpected contact but didn't pull away.

"Wanda..." Sam said. "I-I know what you're going through. When I lost Riley... I was...well, I was devastated. He was like a brother to me."

"But he wasn't!" Wanda hissed, pulling away from him. "You don't know what it's like to lose your family." Sam's expression hardened into a mask of frustration and sorrow.

"Yes I do," he said. There was pain in his voice, sharp-edged and jagged, and Wanda felt a stab of guilt knowing that she, indirectly or not, had put it there. "I know you're hurting, but don't think for a second that I can't understand what you're going through. Don't try to tell me or Steve that we don't know what it's like to lose a family member, because we do." Wanda stared at him for a moment longer, then looked away from him, fixing her gaze on the floor. She couldn't make what he'd told her make sense. He _said_   he knew what she was going through, he _said_   he understood how she felt, but how could he? How could anyone?

"Wanda," Sam said, interrupting her train of thought. "Wanda please. I understand your struggle, I swear I do. Just let me help you."

"No," Wanda replied, shaking her head, her voice barely more than a whisper. She still couldn't quite bring herself to meet Sams's eyes, so she continued to stare at the floor like it held the answers to the mysteries of the universe. She heard Sam sigh with exasperation, a sound which was followed quickly by footsteps and the loud _bang!_  of Cassie's office door slamming shut.

"Wanda!" Cassie exclaimed sharply, making her jerk her head upwards in surprise.

"Where's Sam?" she asked, looking around the room and realizing that he was gone.

"He's gone," Cassie said irritably. "He left because he tried to share a traumatic experience with you, and you belittled his traumatic experience!"

"But my traumatic experience was _worse_  than his traumatic experience," Wanda replied defensively.

"It's not a competition Wanda!" Cassie snapped. "One experience is not worse or more traumatic than another. Trauma and its impact is a purely individual thing, and to tell someone that their feelings or their experience doesn't matter as much as yours is not only ignorant, it's incredibly insensitive and rude!"

"But-" Wanda began

"I don't want to hear any buts!" Cassie cried, cutting her off. "Sam was trying to help you, and look what you did! My job is hard enough without you adding to it!"

"What?" Wanda asked, confused.

"It's hard enough to deal with your issues and James' issues and Sharon's issues and Steve's issues when he'll actually let me help him with them without you giving other people issues besides." Wanda stared at her uncomprehendingly and she sighed with frustration.

"Did it honestly not occur to you that Sam probably has or had PTSD?" she asked. "That he probably didn't want to relive Riley's death? That he was sharing that experience with you at great personal cost?"

"Oh," Wanda said quietly because, truly, none of those things _had_  occurred to her. She was overcome with guilt at the realization of just how horrible she'd been to Sam. "I really screwed up, didn't I?"

"Yes you did," Cassie replied. "I'm not going to sugarcoat it. Whatever there is between you and Sam...you may have just damaged it beyond repair."

"If-if there's a chance," Wanda said hesitantly, "even a small chance, that I can fix things with Sam, will you help me do that?" Cassie shook her head. Wanda started to protest, but Cassie cut her off with a raised hand.

"I don't mean to sound rude," she said, "but it's not my problem. _You_  screwed up things with Sam, so _you_ need to put in the effort to fix them. More importantly, you have to _want_ to put in the effort to fix them, otherwise you might as well not bother with it at all."

"Okay," Wanda replied, seeing the logic of her statement, such as it was. "You're sure you won't help me?"

"Yes," Cassie said. "If I came along every time you made mistakes and fixed them for you, you'd never learn from them."

"Alright," Wanda replied. "I get the point."

"I _will_ help you with anything else you might need," Cassie went on as if Wanda hadn't spoken at all. "Just not with this. Understand?"

" _Yes_ ," Wanda said, exasperated.

"Good," Cassie replied, nodding. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a session with James to prepare for, and _you_  need to go find Sam and apologize." She didn't say the words "You're dismissed", as that might have been overstepping her authority a little bit, but they were pretty strongly implied. With a deep, heavy sigh, Wanda left excused herself from Cassie's office.

"FRIDAY?" she asked when she stepped out into the hall. She wanted to get the situation with Sam taken care of as soon as possible, and she figured it would be easier and quicker to ask FRIDAY where he was instead of wandering the facility looking for him.

"Hello Miss Maximoff," FRIDAY said cheerfully. "What can I do for you?"

"You can tell me where Sam is," Wanda replied. There was a long, somewhat ominous pause, then FRIDAY said, "I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Well, why not?" Wanda asked.

"Because Second Lieutenant Wilson specifically ordered me not to tell you where he is if you asked," FRIDAY replied.

"He doesn't have that kind of authority!" Wanda protested, raising her voice without meaning to.

"No, but Captain Rogers does," FRIDAY said, as calm and politely neutral as ever. Wanda growled in frustration. She should have realized that Sam would have gone to Steve with this, and that Steve would have intervened on his behalf. The two of them had a bond that she couldn't even begin to understand.

"Alright," she said. "Thanks anyway, FRIDAY."

"You're welcome," FRIDAY replied cheerfully. "If you should need anything else from me, please don't hesitate to ask. I am here to serve."

"Of course," Wanda said. "Thank you." FRIDAY withdrew, leaving behind a silence that was almost deafening. Wanda sighed. Fixing things with Sam was going to be next to impossible if Sam wanted so badly to avoid her that he got Steve to specifically order FRIDAY not to give Wanda his location. She considered, briefly, searching for him on her own, but without FRIDAY's help or any sort of access to the facility's security systems that was liable to take hours and ultimately end in frustration. She sighed again, more heavily this time. Not knowing what else to do, she went to the recreation room, thinking that maybe if she could distract herself from her problems for a little while she would find them easier to deal with when the time came. To her surprise, it was nearly empty. She knew that training had ended fifteen minutes ago, so she'd expected it to be packed, but the only people in the room were Steve, Scott...and Sam. She entered cautiously, but it was for naught-Sam spotted her, leaped up from the couch, and strode out of the room, brushing past her on his way out and knocking her sideways.

"Sam!" she cried. "Sam, wait!" She tried to run after him, but in an instant Steve was in front of her, blocking her way.

"He doesn't want to talk to you," he said sternly, crossing his arms.

"I need to apologize," Wanda replied desperately. She tried to duck past him, but to no avail.

"He doesn't want to talk to you," he repeated. "Just let it go, Wanda." Letting it go was the last thing Wanda wanted to do, but she didn't appear to have another option at present. She sat in Sam's recently vacated spot on the couch, her mind racing at a mile a minute, trying to find a solution to her problem.


	16. Chapter 16

Something had changed. Sharon could see that much. Wanda had a different partner-she was sparring with Sam rather than with Natasha and Scott-but it was more than that. There was an uneasiness and a tension between the two of them that definitely hadn't been there before. The room echoed with the shouts of people complimenting each other for particularly good moves, but Sam and Wanda were completely silent. Sam's expression was angry and closed off, but, whenever he thought Wanda wasn't looking he would look at her the way Sharon looked at Steve, and she thought that maybe she understood what was going on.

When Steve finally called a halt to training Sharon followed after him, thinking that it was probably best to find out from him what was going on with Wanda and Sam before she jumped to conclusions and risked messing something up by trying to help without a complete grasp of the situation.

"Steve!" she called, finding that keeping up with him even at a walking pace was a lot harder than she thought it would be. Steve turned, a smile spreading across his face. It was completely different, somehow, from his usual, utterly disarming, smile, the one that always caught Sharon so completely off guard, but it still had the same ability to make her heart ache.

 _Did you smile at my grandmother like that_? she wondered sadly. The second the thought crossed her mind she saw Steve's face fall, and he slumped against the nearest wall.

"Steve!" she cried, running over to him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Steve said hoarsely, levering himself away from the wall. "It's just...for a second I thought-I thought I heard Peggy." Sharon resisted, just barely, the urge to grimace.

"Hey," she said quietly, laying a hand on his forearm. He raised an eyebrow at her but otherwise didn't react to the gesture. Trying to ignore the way her heart was racing, she said, "I need to ask you about something kind of sensitive. Is there somewhere private we can talk?" Steve stared at her for an uncomfortably long time, then nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "Come with me." Sharon walked beside him, her hand still on his arm. She had a sudden mental image her grandmother walking side by side with Steve just as she herself was doing now, her hand on his arm, the two them looking at each other with love in their eyes, and she gasped involuntarily and jerked her hand away from Steve's arm as if she'd been stung. Steve glanced at her curiously but didn't say anything. It was only then that she realized that they'd reached what must have been their destination. The steel door in front of them was identical to all the others in the facility, but somehow Sharon _knew_ that when Steve opened it his room would be on the other side of it.

Steve opened the door and she followed him in to the room beyond, instantly coming to the conclusion that she had been absolutely right. She looked around, trying to distract herself. The thing that struck her the most was how neat everything was. The floor was immaculately clean, the bed precisely made. The books on Steve's shelf were lined up carefully in alphabetical order, the papers on his desk arranged just so. Not a single thing in the roomwas out of place. Sharon got the impression that the neatness was habitual, something he did without thinking, like Wanda reaching for someone who no longer there or Bucky's tendency to walk on Steve's left side.

His back to her, Steve started rummaging through his dresser drawers, but rummaging carefully, putting anything he moved back exactly where he'd found it. Feeling self-conscious, Sharon sat down carefully on the edge of his bed, mindful of mussing it up when he'd obviously put so much effort into keeping it neat. A few minutes later, Steve went into the bathroom adjoining his room and shut the door. Sharon heard the sound of a shower running and tensed.

 _If he comes out shirtless I'm going to scream_ , she thought. About fifteen minutes later she heard the water shut off, and Steve came out of the bathroom, toweling off his hair-and, unforturnately, shirtless. She supressed a startled scream, but just barely.

"So," Steve said, draping the towel around his neck, "what did you want to talk about?"

"Steve," Sharon said instead of answering, shielding her eyes with one hand, "could you _please_ put on a shirt?" Gesturing to Steve's bare torso with her free hand, she added, "That's really distracting." Steve glanced down at himself and frowned.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I didn't even realize I wasn't wearing one. Guess I'm preoccupied." Sharon didn't bother to ask what he was preoccupied with. It seemed reasonable to assume that, given his status as leader of the Avengers and trainer of the New Avengers, he had a lot going on, and consequently a lot on his mind. He disappeared back into the bathroom and reemerged a few minutes later, this time dressed in a T-shirt, which didn't exactly help-Sharon couldn't help but notice how well he filled it out.

"So, now that _that's_ taken care of, what did you want to talk about?" Steve asked with a self-deprecating grin.

"What's going on between Sam and Wanda?" Sharon asked, answering Steve's question with one of her own.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked, taking a seat in his desk chair. Sharon did her best not to see that as an intentional slight on his part since, deep down, she knew that it wasn't.

"Well," she said, " _something_ must have happened, because there's a ridiculous amount of tension between them that I could swear didn't exist the last time I was here."

"Well, what do you think?" Steve asked.

"What do I think?" Sharon repeated. Steve nodded. She thought for a moment, considering how best to phrase it without revealing her own feelings, then said, "I think that Sam has feelings for Wanda. I think he told her that, and she rejected him. That's why there's so much tension between them now." Steve laughed.

"You're close," he said. "Sam does have feelings for Wanda, but I'm reasonably certain he hasn't told her about them yet. No, the reason why things are so tense between them at the moment is because Wanda had a breakdown during training a few days ago, and to try and help her Sam shared what happened to Riley with her."

"Riley?" Sharon asked.

"His wingman," he explained. "He was killed during a mission, and Sam...well, he took it hard. He and Riley were really close. Like brothers."

"Like you and Bucky," Sharon said. Steve nodded.

"Yes, exactly," he said. There was an emotion in his voice that Sharon didn't think she wanted to try and identify. "Anyway, after he told her, Wanda told him that it didn't matter. That he couldn't possibly understand what she was going through because Riley wasn't Sam's real brother, so he doesn't know what it's like to lose a family member."

"Of course he does," Sharon said, shocked that anyone would say something so callous. "Blood is far from being the one and only thing that defines your family."

"Exactly," Steve agreed, "so you can understand why that would upset him." Sharon nodded and they lapsed into silence. After a few minutes she realized that Steve was staring at her.

"What?" she asked. Steve shook his head and looked away.

"What?" she repeated, a hard, demanding edge creeping into her tone.

"Nothing," Steve said. "It's just...I know it's crazy, but sometimes you remind me of Peggy."

"It's not that crazy," Sharon muttered.

"What?" Steve asked.

"It's not that crazy," Sharon replied. "You see, Peggy Carter is-she's-she's my grandmother."

"Your grandmother," Steve said, in a tone she suspected he was struggling to keep neutral. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"Oookaay," Steve said, drawing the word out. "And you didn't tell me this before because?"

"It never seemed like the right time," Sharon said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Steve replied, shaking his head. "I understand. Just tell me one thing. Your grandfather, the man that Peggy married...was he good to her? Was she happy?"

"Yes," Sharon said. She could see in his eyes how much her answer meant to him. "My grandparents really loved each other. They were very happy together." Steve nodded. There was a certain delicateness about his expression that surprised Sharon. It was completely at odds with his usual strong, "you can't beat me" demeanor.

 _Damn_ , she thought, fisting her hand in her hair. _He's taking this a lot harder than I thought he would._

"What-what happened to Peggy after-after the war?" Steve asked hesitantly, interrupting her train of thought.

"Well," she said thoughtfully, "she continued working for the SSR-that's where she met my grandfather, actually-and later she helped found SHIELD with Howard Stark and Colonel Phillips, but I suspect that you knew that already. About her founding SHIELD, I mean." Steve nodded.

"When I was working as a SHIELD operative it was half the reason I stayed," he said quietly. "I figured anything she'd had a hand in couldn't be half so bad as I thought."

"Guess you were wrong about that, huh?" Sharon asked.

"That wasn't her fault," Steve said, his expression hardening. A steely edge crept into his voice. "Arnim Zola was a snake. There was no way she could have known that he was going to do what he did." Sharon raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, although privately she wondered if by "do what he did" Steve meant "rebuild HYDRA" or "capture and torture Bucky" It was most likely, she decided upon giving it more thought, that he'd meant both.

"Alright," she said. "I understand. No need to bite my head off." Chagrined, Steve looked down at the floor, his cheeks reddening.

"Sorry," he all but whispered. "Is there...is there anything else?"

"Yes, actually," Sharon replied. "Not only did my grandmother help to found SHIELD, she was also its first director. Under her leadership, SHIELD recovered the Obelisk and took Werner Reindhart into custody. It was also during that time that Hank Pym carried out his Ant-Man missions."

"How long was she director?" Steve asked.

"Forty-two years," Sharon said. "She retired on the order of the World Security Council in 1991, about a year after my grandfather died. Her tenure as director is widely considered by veterans of the time period to have been SHIELD's best years."

"Well," Steve said, a quaver in his voice, "at least she had a good life." His eyes glimmered with unshed tears.

"What's wrong?" Sharon asked, unable to keep the worry out of her voice. Steve shook his head vigorously. She waited patiently. She felt sure he would tell her eventually.

"She's going to die, Sharon," Steve said after a long pause, proving her right. "After all the things she's done, all the life she's lived...she's going to die."

"Everyone dies, Steve," Sharon said gently, the way one might to a child who has just lost a cherished grandparent.

"But why does it have to be her?" Steve all but wailed. He was crying in earnest now, tears streaming down his cheeks. "And why now? I-I still love her. I can't say goodbye, not yet. I'm not-I'm not ready."

"Hey, she's not dead yet," Sharon said, trying and failing to adopt a lighthearted tone. "You'll be ready when the time comes, I'm sure."

"I wouldn't be," Steve replied, his voice mangled by tears. "I've already lost so many of the people I love. I'm not strong enough to bear the loss of another."

"Yes you are," Sharon said fiercely, crossing the room and taking his hand in hers. He gripped it so hard she was afraid he might break her fingers, but she bore the discomfort willingly, reminding herself that she was doing this for his benefit and not her own. "You're the strongest person I know. If you survived losing Bucky, something I know hurt you very much, you can survive anything."

"But I almost didn't survive losing Bucky," Steve protested weakly. "And the Winter Soldier came, wearing his face, and tried to kill me, well... that almost broke me completely."

"But you're still here, aren't you?" Sharon argued. "Really, Steve. You give yourself too little credit. You _are_ strong enough to make it through losing my grandmother, whether you believe you are or not." Steve didn't respond to that, which was fine. She didn't really expect him to. They settled into a silence that, while not exactly comfortable, at the very least wasn't awkward. Steve sighed, and Sharon briefly wondered what he was thinking about, but then decided it was something else to do with their conversation, something he hadn't wanted to share, and as such was none of her business.

Sharon's phone let out a loud, almost petulant ring, making them both jump. Steve let go of her hand and she shook it out, trying to get some feeling back into it.

"Sorry," Steve said, shamefaced.

"Don't be," Sharon replied, fishing her phone, which was still ringing, out of her pocket. "I forgot how strong your grip is. I brought this on myself, really." Steve smiled, but it was strained. He was clearly still struggling to come to terms with the, in his mind, looming threat of her grandmother's death. Unable to delay the inevitable any longer, Sharon looked at her phone to see who was calling her and had to suppress a groan when she saw the name on the screen-Agent William Major.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Where the hell are you?" Agent Major snapped.

"I'm at the New Avengers facility," Sharon replied, then added, "Sir."

"Well, get your ass back here!" Agent Major shouted, loud enough that she had to hold the phone away from her ear to avoid damaging her hearing. "Now!"

"Yes sir," Sharon replied. "Right away sir. I'll be back as soon as possible."

"You'd better be," Agent Major growled, his statement punctuated by a loud _click_ as he disconnected. Sharon thought it more than likely that he'd just slammed his phone down on its cradle as hard as he could. She sighed. She'd looked up to Agent Major when she'd first started working at the CIA, but it was becoming increasingly clear that he was a bad tempered, unreasonable, all together disagreeable man, and every encounter with him left her hating him a little bit more than the one before it.

"I've got to go," she told Steve, slipping her phone back into her pocket. "My SO wants me back at the office."

"Yeah, I heard," Steve replied dryly. "He was practically screaming in your ear."

"A little more than 'practically'," Sharon said with a humorless chuckle. Steve gratified her remark with another strained smile.

"Take care of yourself," he said. "Don't let your SO push you around _too_ much."

"I never do," Sharon replied, and knew from his pained expression that she'd just reminded him of her grandmother. This was, of course, unintentional-she knew in her heart that she could never purposely do something that caused him pain, even if she were angry with him.

"Before I go, I need you to do something for me," she said.

"Of course," Steve replied. "Anything."

"I need you to promise me that you'll talk to Cassie about what's bothering you," Sharon said. "She can help you."

"You bet," Steve replied, but Sharon knew, somehow, that he wasn't going to keep his promise.


	17. Chapter 17

"I was wrong," Cassie said, attempting to break the silence that she and James had fallen into in the middle of her latest session with him.

"What?" James asked, glancing up from his examination of the floor, his tone no more than mildly curious.

"When I diagnosed you," Cassie said. "I was wrong."

"What?" James repeated, incredulous this time.

"Not about what you have," Cassie explained hastily, trying to calm him. "Just about what its called. It actually hasn't been called multiple personality disorder since the nineties."

"Oh," James said, slumping back in his chair, looking relieved. "What's it called now?"

"Dissociative identity disorder," Cassie said. "Which is more accurate, since it's not so much the formation of multiple whole personalities or identities as it is the fragmentation of a single one." James nodded but didn't otherwise respond. He seemed despondent, or at least more despondent than usual. Cassie wanted to ask him what was wrong, but she also didn't want to pry. Too many personal questions tended to make him shut down.

"I'm worried about Steve," James said after several minutes, offering the information Cassie sought before she could ask for it.

"Why?" she asked. "What's wrong with him?" She thought for a moment, then added, "I mean, what's wrong with him besides what I already know about?"

"That's the problem," James replied. "I don't know. He won't tell me."

"Well, I'd offer to help you, but I don't think he'd tell me either," Cassie said, "and considering the fact that we got into a shouting match that one time I tried to _force_ him to accept my help, I _really_ don't want to try and do that again." James let out a short, sharp bark of laughter, almost like a retort.

"Yeah," he said, his voice subdued. "That's probably smart." He fell silent again. Cassie sighed. He had been really closed off lately, or at least more so than usual, and simultaneously frustrated her and made her sad, especially since he wouldn't tell her what had caused his sudden withdrawal, and she wasn't able to figure it out on her own. James' face was a closed book that only Steve could read.

"What's wrong?" she asked, hoping against hope that she could get him to open up.

"Nothing," James, who had gone back to examining the floor, said without looking up.

"We both know that's not true," Cassie replied gently. James' only response was to shake his head.

"Come on," Cassie prompted. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

"No I can't," James said. "It's not something you can help me with."

"Well, how will either of us know that if you don't tell me what's wrong?" Cassie countered. James sighed.

"I'm just...tired," he said. "Tired of being treated like I'm something breakable. Tired of feeling like I'm a danger to myself and everyone around me. Tired of not being able to be there for Steve and look out for him like I used to. I'm tired, but I'm not the kind of tired that rest can fix."

"You'd be surprised," Cassie replied. "Sometimes all you need is a break. I'll talk to Steve about granting you a week off from training, and we'll see if that helps."

"A week?" James asked. "Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"Of course," Cassie replied evenly. "You've already been extensively trained in combat, so I doubt your skills would suffer to much from you missing a week. Besides, it's not just a week off from training. It's a week off from any obligation to engage in social interaction of any kind, should you be inclined to avoid such situations, for which I honestly wouldn't blame you."

"No," James said, shaking his head. "You don't have to do that, Cassie. It's-it's fine. I'll be fine."

"Doctor's orders," Cassie said, smiling. "You know what? Take Steve with you. You could both use a break. Natasha can take over training while you guys are gone."

"Where would we be going, anyway?" James asked. He still sounded wary, but less so than before. He seemed to be warming up to the idea of taking a break.

"You know, I actually hadn't thought about that yet," Cassie replied. "I didn't think we'd get this far. Give me a minute." After a long pause, she exclaimed "I've got it! I'll have Director Coulson send you to Clint's farm."

"Clint?" James asked.

"Clint Barton," Cassie said. "If you know him it all, it's probably as Hawkeye. He and his wife Laura have a farm out in the Midwest. The Avengers spent some time there after that whole disaster with Ultron in South Africa. From what I've heard, it was... well, not exactly relaxing, but helpful, at least. It made it easier for them to face what came next. Anyway, you'll like Laura. She's really nice, and her kids are sweethearts."

"She has kids?" James asked.

"Yep," Cassie replied. "Three of them. Actually, four now. Why? Is that a problem?"

"No," James said, shaking his head. "It's just... I haven't been around kids in a while."

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Cassie reassured him. "After all, you have three younger siblings, don't you?"

"Four if you count Steve," James replied, nodding.

"See?" Cassie said brightly. "Nothing to worry about." The ghost of a smile flickered across James' face, so quickly she almost missed it.

 _Ah,_ she thought. Now _I'm getting somewhere._ Out loud, she said, "You'll be okay James. I promise you, you'll come back from your break feeling like a whole different person."

"Well, maybe not a _whole_ different person," James put in.

"Maybe not," Cassie amended,"but you'll definitely feel more in control of yourself, and certainly not so tired."

"Good," James said quietly. They fell back into silence, but it was a comfortable silence this time, so Cassie didn't mind quite as much. After a while, however, it became stifling, and she began casting about for something to say.

"So James," she began. James looked startled. It was as if he had forgotten she was there, or even, for that matter, where he was. "Besides what we've already covered today, is there anything else you'd like to talk about? Anything you'd like to ask me?"

"Am I-am I going to be okay?" James asked.

"Yes, of course," Cassie said. She was sure he didn't believe her.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked, confirming her suspicions.

"Because I have to be," she said simply. "It's my job to have faith in you when you don't have faith in yourself. It's the only way I'm able to help you."

"I understand," James said. "Thank you."

"Not a problem," Cassie replied cheerfully. "The important thing to remember is that you're not going through this alone. You have me and Steve and the New Avengers. We'll be there to lift you up when you're feeling low, and, if you need us to, we'll carry you. Never forget that."

"I'll do my best not to," James said, his voice low.

"Good," Cassie replied, "and I'll be right along to remind you if you do." James laughed quietly at that. There was genuine amusement in that laugh, which was a welcome change from his usual bitter, humorless chuckle.

"Well, would you look at that!" Cassie exclaimed after a moment, glancing at the clock. "We're out of time for today." She went around to James' side of the desk and gave him a hug goodbye.

"See you in two weeks James," she said. "Enjoy your time off."

"I will," James whispered, almost as if he were afraid to admit it to himself, and then he was gone.


	18. Chapter 18

Wanda was miserable. Since her breakdown she had fallen into a deep depression, one that wasn't at all helped by her guilt over how she'd treated Sam when he'd tried to help her. However, she would have thought it almost bearable if only Sam were speaking to her. Unfortunately, he wasn't, and hadn't been since her breakdown. She would have tried to talk to him anyway, but her social skills weren't all that great and she was sure that she would only make everything worse.

"Cassie told me I might find you moping in here," Sam's voice said, cutting into her thoughts. She turned with a gasp of surprise and saw him standing in the doorway, watching her with those solemn, dark eyes of his.

"Sam!" Wanda said, his name coming out sounding like a startled yelp. "I-I want you to know that I'm sorry for how I treated you earlier. You were just trying to help, and I was cruel and rude to you in response. I've been feeling guilty about it ever since, and-" Sam cut her off with a raised hand.

"You don't have to apologize, Wanda," he said. "Cassie explained why you acted the way you did. I understand."

"But...Cassie said she wouldn't help me fix things with you," Wanda protested quietly. Sam laughed at that, but without humor.

"That's what she told me," he said, "but she also said that she didn't consider explaining the situation to me to be helping you. She said that it was pretty clear that you felt bad about how you acted and wanted to apologize, and that really _I_ was the one at fault for refusing to speak to you. She also said that you've fallen into a deep depression since your breakdown, one that's only been compounded by your guilt, and that as a psychologist it was part of her job to be concerned for her patients' well-being, and as such she had to insist that I resolve my issues with you as soon as possible." Now it was Wanda's turn to laugh humorlessly.

"Well," she said lamely, blinking back tears, "Cassie is damn good at her job." Sam dipped his head in acknowledgement of the truth of her statement.

"That she is," he agreed. There was a long pause, and Wanda got the feeling that they were both searching for the right thing to say.

"Look Wanda," Sam finally spoke up, sitting down on the couch beside her and taking her hand in his. "I...I know I'm not Pietro. I know that I can't replace him, that no one can replace him, but I can try to fill his role if you need me to. I can be a brother to you, if you want. Or, if you wanted me to be something more...I can do that too." Wanda squeezed Sam's hand, but was silent. She needed a moment to decide how best to respond.  
"Steve has... already appointed himself my brother," she finally said, after careful consideration. "I don't need another one.Besides, I...I could never think of you that way." Sam leaned back, looking startled. They both stared at each other for an uncomfortably long time. Wanda's face felt hot, and she was sure it was as red as the Vision's. She really hadn't meant to say that. It had just sort of...slipped out. She was so embarrassed that it barely registered in her brain when Sam started to lean forward again. It registered even less when she started to lean forward as well- she barely even noticed that she was moving.  
Wanda found herself closing her eyes as her lips brushed against Sam's tentatively. She wasn't sure how he'd react, and she didn't want to overstep a boundary and drive him away again. Sam's arms moved, seemingly of their own volition, and wrapped around Wanda's waist, pulling her closer. If she'd had the presence of mind to shrug, she would have. It seemed she needn't have worried about overstepping boundaries, at least not in the present situation. She was swept up in the moment though, and could focus on nothing else but finally being as close to Sam as she'd wanted to be for so long, possibly even longer than she was willing to admit to herself.  
Almost as soon as their unexpected kiss had begun, it was over. Wanda's eyelids fluttered open, pale blue eyes staring into chocolate brown ones. For a moment the only sound was that of their rapid breathing echoing in the tiny space between them.  
"Wanda..." Sam whispered.  
"I'm sorry," Wanda said, pulling back, widening the space between them. "I don't know what came over me. I-"  
"No, don't apologize!" Sam said hastily, cutting her off. He pulled her close and planted a kiss on her forehead. "I'm not upset, just... surprised. You're not usually the most open of people, so I wasn't expecting that."  
"I apologize," Wanda said. "I'll try to be more forthcoming in the future."  
" No Wanda," Sam said, shaking his head. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. "You're fine the way you are. You don't need to change, for me or anyone else." He was silent after that. Wanda relaxed into his embrace, marveling at how strange it felt-how strange, and how right. To be where she was right now felt...like a miracle.  
_Nothing is more horrifying than a miracle_ , Strucker's voice whispered in the back of her mind. She jerked away from Sam with a gasp.  
"Wanda?" he asked, studying her face."What's wrong?"  
"Nothing," she replied. "It's just hard for me to get Strucker out of my head sometimes, that's all."  
"Wanda, Strucker's been dead for over a year," Sam said, his forehead furrowing with concern.  
"I _know_ that, Sam," Wanda replied, "but that doesn't mean my memories of him disappear." Sam nodded.  
"I understand," he said softly. "I have the same problem with-with Riley. He's dead, but I still have all these memories of him. It's like his ghost is living inside my head." Wanda sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping.  
"You have no idea what Strucker did to me," she whispered, her voice ragged. "Just because I volunteered for his experiments doesn't mean they were pleasant. Pietro dealt with everything much better than I did. Out of the two of us, he was always the stronger one."  
"No," Sam said, shaking his head. He gripped her hands in his. "I didn't know Pietro, but I don't believe that. I don't believe that anyone is stronger than you."  
"What about Steve?" Wanda asked, because she felt like being argumentative.  
"There are different kinds of strength, Wanda," Sam replied, his tone skirting the edge of patronizing. "Steve is strong in his way. You are strong in yours, and I've never met anyone who was stronger in the same way than you are."  
"And in what way am I strong?" Wanda asked casually, feigning mild interest, when in fact Sam had her hanging on his next words.  
"In the way you refuse to let the bad things that happened in your past rule you," Sam replied. "You try and better yourself each and every day, and you never back down from a challenge. That's how you're strong." Wanda nodded but couldn't think of anything to say in reply.  
"I'm afraid that any compliment I have to give you would seem incredibly shallow in comparison to  the one you just gave me," she finally said.  
"And that's alright," Sam said gently, pulling her close to him again, his arms curling loosely around her waist. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he added, "I don't expect anything more from you than whatever it is that you're able to give, and it's okay that sometimes that won't be very much. I understand that."  
"Thank you for your consideration," Wanda remarked, her mouth twisting into a wry smile.  
"You know I'd do anything for you, Wanda," Sam replied solemnly. Wanda gave a little start at that, because, truly, she _hadn't_ known that, not until now.  
"Sam..." she said, pulling away from him. "Can we-can we take this slowly? Just until we know what the standing of our relationship is? This is all so new and so...fragile, and I don't want to break it by moving too fast."  
"Of course," Sam said, smiling reassuringly at her. "Whatever you need."  
"Good," Wanda replied. "Thank you." Rising from the couch, she said, "I should go. Not that this hasn't been pleasant, but-" She shrugged, leaving her sentence unfinished.  
"Where are you going?" Sam asked as she walked toward the door.  
"To better myself," Wanda replied with a smile, and then she was gone.


	19. Chapter 19

Sharon had Steve's phone number. She couldn't recall how or when she had gotten it, but there it was. She stared at the phone in her hand, wondering if she should call it. Coming to a decision, she dialed the number with a shaking hand. Steve picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?" he asked. His tone was wary and guarded. Of course it was. He probably didn't recognize her number. It made sense that he would be on his guard.

"Steve?" Sharon said. "It's-it's Sharon."

"Oh, hey Sharon," Steve said, his tone instantly becoming more relaxed. There was a rustle on his end, as of movement, and Sharon could picture him in her mind's eye, leaning sideways against a wall, the tension going out of his shoulders and a smile spreading across his face, as clearly as if he were standing in front of her. She shook her head once, startled, trying to figure out when exactly she had come to know him so well.

"Look Steve," she said, shoving away the thought that was now buzzing incessantly around her head like a fly. "I just wanted to let you know that I might not be around the facility for very much longer."

"Wait, what?" Steve asked. "Why?" There was a note of distress in his voice that puzzled Sharon.

"I'm not sure exactly," she said, "but my SO's been pretty strongly hinting that my assignment there's going to be over soon. I'm hoping that this means that he's considering recommending me to head up the anti-terrorism task force that they're putting together in Berlin, but probably not. Knowing him, he's going to want to keep me under his thumb for as long as possible."

"The more I hear about this guy, the more I dislike him," Steve replied. "He sounds like a bully." Sharon made a noise of emphatic agreement.

"Anyway, I hope you get that promotion," Steve went on. "You deserve it. "

"Thanks," Sharon said bluntly, oddly uncomfortable with the compliment. She heard a rustle on the other end of the line, and thought that Steve had most likely just shrugged in that non-committal way of his.

"So, um..." she said hesitantly. "How are you? How's Bucky?"

"I'm alright," Steve replied. Bucky's...not doing as well as I'd hoped. He's been avoiding everyone except me from the moment we got here. I think he's afraid he'll hurt someone by being in too close of a proximity to them."

"That's terrible," Sharon said sympathetically. "Have you tried talking to him about it?"

"I tried reminding him that he's the one in control now, but I don't think it worked," Steve said. "I mean, Cassie helped him gain control of the Winter Soldier, but I guess that programming is still in his head, and he's convinced that it's only a matter of time before somebody figures out how to trigger it again and uses him to hurt people."

"Well, all I can suggest is that you keep trying," Sharon said. "Persistence is key. If you tell Bucky that everything is fine enough times, maybe eventually he'll believe you."

"Maybe," Steve agreed, but he sounded doubtful. In that moment, Sharon wanted nothing more than to give him a hug and tell _him_ that everything was fine. She could tell from the tightness in his voice and the careful way he formed his words that Bucky's problems were affecting him much more than he was letting on. She recalled one of her grandmother's stories, one that seemed particularly relevant right then, wherein, after the famously disastrous mission to capture the HYDRA scientist Arnim Zola, she'd found Steve alone in a bombed out London bar, having obviously been crying for hours over Bucky's fate. The fact that that fate had later turned out to not be nearly so...final as Steve had thought at the time did not lessen the impact of that story in any way, as far as Sharon was concerned. Doubtless he felt that Bucky's actual fate was far worse than the one he had once believed had befallen him. Her heart ached for him.

Lost in her thoughts, it took Sharon a moment to realize that the conversation had faltered. All she could hear on the other end was the steady, rhythmic sound of Steve's breathing. There was a change in that rhythm, subtle, but enough to tell her that he was about to speak even before he said, "Thank you Sharon."

"For what?" Sharon replied, noting that his voice seemed to have dropped at least half an octave, the way it did when he was especially serious.

"For listening," Steve said. "I can count on one hand the number of people that I feel comfortable opening up to, and I'm glad to know, now, that I can include you among them." Sharon's face felt warm. She was reasonably sure that she was blushing.

"I'm grateful to be among those people," she said. "If you need me, just call. I promise I'll answer."

"You are aware that I'm going to hold you to that promise, right?" Steve asked, a smile in his voice.

"Of course," Sharon replied. "I wouldn't expect anything else from you." Steve laughed, and when Sharon ended the call, her heart felt lighter for his sake.


	20. Chapter 20

Cassie slammed a fist into the punching bag in front of her and winced.

_What am I doing wrong?_  she wondered. She didn't know that much about hand to hand combat-that was why Steve and James were teaching her- but she was pretty sure it wasn't supposed to hurt this much when she hit things.

"You're bending your wrists," she heard James' voice say, as if summoned by her thoughts. She turned, brushing strands of sweat soaked hair out her face, to find him standing in the doorway, watching her with a thoughtful expression. He had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder- he must have only just gotten back.

"James!" she cried, running over to give him a hug. She breathed in his familiar scent of cordite and metal and machine oil, layered over with the sorts of smells she associated with farms- topsoil, livestock, and warm hay. Stepping back, she cocked her head and asked "What was that about me bending my wrists?"

"When you punch," James said, nodding toward the punching bag that was still swinging slowly back and forth. "You're bending your wrists. That's why it hurts so much when you make contact. If you kept them straight, it wouldn't."

"Show me?" Cassie asked. James nodded and gestured for her to follow him to the punching bag she had so recently abandoned.

"Steady that for me, will you?" he asked. Cassie nodded and grasped it between her hands, stopping its swinging motion. She peered around its edge at James. He lifted a hand to her eye level, as if to ask  _You ready?_  When she nodded, he closed it into a fist, pulled back, and hit the bag hard, producing a loud  _thud_. Cassie shrieked in surprise as she was yanked backwards off her feet.

"Did you _really_  have to hit it that hard?" she asked irritably, getting awkwardly to her feet.

"How hard I hit it isn't what matters," James huffed. "What matters is  _how_  I hit it. Did you see how my wrist was straight?" Cassie nodded.

"Good," James said, nodding in a satisfied manner. "Now you try it." Cassie did as she was told, and cried out in pain, leaping back from the bag and flapping her hand around.

"No, that's not it," James said, frowning. "Try it again." Cassie did, with the same result. Her third attempt ended much the same, as did her fourth attempt, and her fifth, and her sixth. By this time, it was clear that James was becoming frustrated with her, despite all his efforts to hide that fact.

"Come on Cassie," he scolded. "I know you're smart enough to figure this out." Grasping her wrist between two fingers of his left hand, he added, "Feel that weight? The next time you try, pretend it's still there and  _keep your wrist straight_." He dropped her wrist and stepped back, watching her with his unreadable steel blue eyes. Cassie sighed, her shoulders drooping, and squared off into her fighting stance. She could sense that she'd done something differently the second her fist impacted with the punching bag- this time, no knife sharp bolt of pain went lancing up her hand.

"See?" James said. "I knew you could do it!" Cassie beamed.

"So, what?" James asked. "Do you want to keep going, or do you want to call it for today?"

"I think I'll call it a day," Cassie replied, removing the athletic wraps from her hands and tossing them in her duffel. "I'm exhausted."

"Sounds good to me," James said. To her surprise, he followed her out of the room. When they entered the hallway, Cassie stopped and looked at him expectantly.

"It's been a while since my last appointment," he said, interpreting the gesture as an unspoken gesture as she'd intended. "So I figured you'd wanna..." He trailed off.

"Right, of course," Cassie replied, feeling stupid for not understanding sooner. "Just let me shower and change, and I'll meet you in my office, okay?" Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her office key and tossed it to James, adding, "It should be unlocked, but here's this just in case."

"Thanks," James said, pocketing the key. "See you in a few."

"Uh huh," Cassie agreed. She went cheerfully on her way, whistling a tune as she walked. For whatever reason, she was in a very good mood. After a nice long shower, she dressed herself in jeans, a tank top, and her favorite wool cardigan, then padded barefoot down metal hallways to her office. She entered to find that James had taken up his usual seat on the near side of her desk, and she was pleased to note that his posture was less tense and his demeanor considerably less nervous than it usually was during his visits. However, there was still something there that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"So," she said, sliding into her chair, "how was your week away? Are you feeling any better?"

"Yeah, a lot better," James said. "I don't feel nearly so tired. And my week was fine."

"Just fine?" Cassie asked, raising an eyebrow. She'd been expecting more of a positive reaction than simply "fine".

"Yeah," James replied. "You see, the thing is...the Winter Soldier is still in my head somewhere." Cassie leaned forward in her chair.

"That's...troubling news," she said, her face creasing into a worried frown. "Are you sure?" James nodded.

"I can hear him sometimes," he explained. "Really faintly, like somebody whispering in another, but I definitely hear him."

"And you didn't mention this before because?" Cassie asked with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I wasn't sure if it was real," James explained, "or if my brain was just filling in something it thought should be there. I'd put it down to mental exhaustion initially, but now..." His voice faded into silence.

"Alright," Cassie said. "Do you think he's about to break through again? Do we need to take some kind of drastic action so that you don't lose yourself?"

"No, I don't think so," James replied. "I don't think I'm liable to lose control of him without outside influence, and that's where the problem is."

"That problem being?" Cassie asked, resisting the urge to rest her head face down on her desk. The more she heard about this new complication, the more exhausted she became. She wasn't sure if she had the energy needed to fix it, let alone the skill.

"There's a book," James said, "that has words in it that are used to trigger the Winter Soldier. It disappeared when the Russian arm of HYDRA shut down, but if somebody were to get their hands on it, they could use it to cause some serious damage. People would die."

"If they could even  _get_  to you," Cassie pointed out, in an attempt to reassure him. "I doubt anyone could get past FRIDAY."

"Every security system has a weakness, Cassie," James told her, the warning in his tone indicative of his unfortunate personal experience with that fact. Cassie frowned.

"So, what do you want to do about this?" she asked, a nervous tremor in her voice.

"Ideally, find that book and destroy it," James replied, "but failing that, figure out some way to get the Winter Soldier completely out of my head. Permanently, so no one can ever use me to hurt people again."

"Well, I don't know how to do that," Cassie said, "but I'll reach out, get in touch with some of my former colleagues, see if one of them might know how to help. Okay?" When James nodded, she said, "Alright good. Now let's call it a day."


End file.
